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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25189492">Cardinal Rule</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hauntingme/pseuds/Hauntingme'>Hauntingme</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Heart has Wings [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Clexa, Developing Relationship, F/F, Family Drama, Fluff and Angst, Jealousy, LGBTQ Themes, Modern Setting Clarke Griffin/Lexa, POV Clarke Griffin, POV Lexa (The 100), POV Third Person</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:28:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>22,439</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25189492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hauntingme/pseuds/Hauntingme</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>How will Lexa respond when her first, established romantic relationship becomes the caveat for dismantling her relationship with her family? </p><p>Will Clarke finally stop running and confront the demons from her past? Or will she condemn herself to a life existing without strings?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anya &amp; Raven Reyes, Anya/Raven Reyes, Clarke Griffin &amp; Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa, Octavia Blake/Lincoln</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Heart has Wings [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824736</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>240</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Hold Your Breath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story picks up six months after the events in Bluebird. </p><p>A big T H A N K  Y O U to all that expressed interest in reading the continuation of these characters. I hope to measure up to the first one. </p><p>As always, please feel welcomed to share your thoughts/concerns/frustrations!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Drowning could be peaceful.</p><p>Lexa watched the sun’s reflection glimmering like diamonds floating on the crisp edges of the water’s surface. Lying against the pool floor bed quieted the noises from her house guests and those in her mind; she liked this place. The furnace popping and crackling in her lungs signaled time to breach the surface. </p><p>“C A N O N   B A L L!” Raven shouts, just before landing in the pool near the spot Lexa resurfaced. </p><p>Water droplets sting her eyes as Lexa blindly makes her way to the edge of the pool. </p><p>“Here you go, babe.” Clarke hands Lexa a towel. </p><p>Goosebumps grow and race across her body once she contacts the sun kissed towel. Lexa has been in the water for at least twenty minutes, allowing the cloth plenty of time to soak up the sun’s generosity. </p><p>“Hmm,” she hums as she wraps it around her body.</p><p>“Have I mentioned how glad I am you got a house with this pool?” Clarke teases as she wraps her arms around Lexa, snuggling into the towel. </p><p>“Only,” Lexa squints as if actually trying to count all the times, “a lot.” </p><p>Clarke raises to the balls of her feet, gently pulling against Lexa’s neck until their lips meet; a tender kiss that threatened to become more. Lexa feels more than heat from the towel now. </p><p>“Is it too early to send everyone home?” Lexa whispers. </p><p>Admittedly her reasoning to rush everyone out stemmed less from her desire to be alone with Clarke but more for her need to be alone, alone. Tomorrow was her first therapy session with just Becca and herself, and Lexa needed all the energy and courage to step into that room.</p><p>Shortly after the housewarming party, Anya made good on her promise to get a family therapist for the Woods. The beginning stages were one on ones with the therapist then gradually the sessions would include pairs. </p><p>Lexa’s first pairing was with her brother, Bellamy, which didn’t go as terribly as she anticipated. He still resents her but at least he is making efforts to communicate. However, Becca, mother hen, has made it abundantly clear whose side she is taking. Lexa already has a strained relationship with her mother and this ordeal worked to exploit the tension building between the two women.</p><p>“What,” Clarke snickers, leaning her forehead into Lexa’s neck, “they literally just got here.”</p><p>So much for peace and quiet. </p><p>***************</p><p>Clarke observed Lexa. </p><p>She watched as the brunette repeatedly dove into the water, releasing all the air from her lungs as she floated down to the bed of the pool. Once or twice Clarke’s chest would tighten after a few moments, only relaxing once Lexa resurfaced. </p><p> “Your girl is moody as fuck today,” Anya grumbles.</p><p>“She’s your sister,” Clarke nudges Anya, but the water droplets resting on her shoulders cause her to slip. Thankfully, Anya’s reflexes were quick, saving Clarke from smacking against the concrete.</p><p>“Jesus, Clarke how many drinks have you had?” Anya strains, returning Clarke to an upright position.</p><p>“Too many, I suppose.” Clarke’s ribs squeeze as she tries to stifle the giggles sputtering into her throat. Catching sight of Lexa sitting on the edge of the pool aimlessly kicking at the water sobered her. She wanted to know the nature of the storms brewing in her lover’s mind. </p><p>She knew that therapy was difficult on Lexa. Though, Clarke didn’t know the context of what went on inside the sessions; Lexa kept the details very close to her chest, “excuse me, will ya?” Clarke politely excuses herself to join the brooding brunette. </p><p>“Hey,” she softens her voice, taking a seat next to Lexa. </p><p>“Hi,” Lexa chirps up, stretching and creasing the sides of her mouth as she smiles. Clarke knew this was a mask.</p><p>“Are you ok?” </p><p>“Of course, why?”</p><p>Clarke wasn’t buying it but knew this wasn’t the time or place to push it; so, she let it go for now, “just making sure.” She places a chaste kiss against the corner of Lexa’s mouth before standing to join in on Raven and Anya’s conversation. Based on the flailing hand gestures and contorted facial expressions, the conversation looked like an interesting one to say the least.</p><p>“What in the world are you two talking about?” Clarke raises her eyebrows, sliding into a seat adjacent to Raven. Her friend props her tan legs onto Clarke’s, notes of coconut and shea butter fill her nostrils causing images of many summers’ past flooding her memory.</p><p>“Anya is telling me about this patient she dealt with the other day,” Raven slides her sunglasses onto the bridge of her nose as she settles deeper into the chair.</p><p>“Your mom got called in to help on that one,” Anya chomps off a bite of her twizzler with a sound similar to ripping the rubber grip off of a mechanical pencil. Clarke wondered if the two were made from the same synthetic material; she wished Anya kept better snacking habits.  </p><p>Abby Griffin. Clarke couldn’t help how the mentioning of her mother made knots twist and contract in her belly; some in her chest too. She contracts her abdomen to relieve the tension, allowing a breath to escape hastily through her nose. </p><p>She hoped no one would notice her discomfort. It was bad enough that the host was moody; they didn’t need Clarke’s demeanor to shift, too. At least, Clarke decided it would not be fair to the guests.</p><p>***************</p><p>As the evening drew closer, Lexa’s chest became more constricted as her mind raced to resolve all worst-case scenarios imaginable; at least those concerning the therapy session with Becca. The day should have been enjoyable, and all of her favorite people were present, but her mind was not.</p><p>“Thanks again, Lex, for inviting us out,” Lincoln’s voice was laced with content and excitement; it matched the sparks firing in his eyes. </p><p>The pool party was intended to welcome Lincoln and Octavia to the community. Since Lexa made her permanent resident here, rather than New York, it was favorable for her best accountant to relocate. It helped that Octavia’s family was already here; a win, win.</p><p>“I’m happy you’re here,” She sighs, pulling him and Octavia into a group hug. </p><p>Lexa’s heart warmed with every kiss she witnessed the couple sharing with one another. She envied their ability to exist in a world all on their own and choosing. It’s true that she felt a certain freedom with Clarke but some days, the darkness would creep in, making it harder for Lexa to see the bigger picture.</p><p>“It was nice meeting you, Clarke,” Octavia smiles, scrunching the bridge of her nose, “I have a feeling we’re going to be the best of friends.”</p><p>“Oh, no doubt,” Clarke giggles. </p><p>Lexa wondered what that was about. She can see that Clarke’s eyelids are heavy, covering half of her eyes; the girl was tipsy for sure. </p><p>“You two have a good night,” Lincoln wraps up the conversation, following Octavia to their vehicle. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Clarke coos, pulling on Lexa’s hand, “now we can do what I’ve been thinking about doing to you all day.”</p><p>Lexa and Clarke initially planned to spend this night together but Lexa’s headspace wasn’t allowing it. She needed to get some space; take time to sit with her thoughts without interruption. She is convinced that if she can think of any possible remark to come from Becca, she would be prepared and armed with a retort. </p><p>“As tempting as that sounds,” Lexa steps back, creating some space between them, “I don’t feel well.”</p><p>Clarke’s eyebrows draw in, towards one another, “Oh, no, baby are you ok? What’s wrong?”</p><p>“Too much sun, I think,” Lexa lies. She isn’t ready to discuss her fears; that was reserved for and exhausted by her therapy sessions.</p><p>“Okay,” Clarke steps closer to Lexa, pushing away a curly tendril from Lexa’s face, “we can relax this evening. Go lay down and I’ll grab some things that should help with the overexposure.”</p><p>“If you don’t mind, I would like to have the night to myself.” </p><p>Lexa hoped her tone was neutral, even; nothing like the ripples of tremors radiating throughout her body. </p><p>Clarke’s eyes dart back and forth, searching for answers behind Lexa’s. She wouldn’t find anything there, Lexa would make sure of it; casting a dark curtain to hide the pain and fear dwelling inside of her. </p><p>“Did I do something wrong?” Clarke reaches out for Lexa’s hand, gently rubbing her thumb across Lexa’s palm.</p><p>Lexa’s heart squeezed, causing her to take short breaths. The last thing she wanted was for Clarke to feel poorly or at fault.</p><p>“Of course not,” Lexa pulls Clarke close, wrapping her arms around the girl’s waist. Vanilla fills her senses, momentarily relaxing the tension between her shoulders. They stand there, holding each other for only a moment but it might have been a lifetime for Lexa, “I’ll be better by tomorrow.”</p><p>Lexa loosens her grip to allow Clarke to lean back; green connecting with blue once more. Briefly, Clarke’s eyebrow twitches but relaxes once the girl’s mouth forms a tight line before finally responding with, “whatever you need.”</p><p> It wasn’t a question, but the statement rattled Lexa. What did she need? And how much did it vary from what she wanted?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Woven Words</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is heavy.</p><p>Please feel welcomed to share thoughts/concerns/frustrations!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The canvas, now unrecognizable under the dense oils that clung and dripped from its surface, stood boldly in the center of Clarke’s art room. Against a blue background, saturated oranges and yellows dance across it in large strokes, the lines creating an illusion of two warring swans. </p><p>Clarke stepped back from the painting, gently knocking a paintbrush from its secure place atop her repurposed shoe box. It lands with a splat against the exposed floor. </p><p>“Damn,” she whispers, eyeing the brush that now held a mixture of oils, dirt, and hair from its fall. </p><p>She tosses the brush into a bucket, causing it to tip over; paint thinner droplets splash onto her canvas. Her heart falls at the sight; her hard work was now smearing, sliding down the canvas. </p><p>“Such is life,” she mutters aloud to the empty room. </p><p>She wasn’t a stranger to having to start over; when it comes to her art, anything was possible. That didn’t stop her from being disappointed, though. Several hours went into this piece and now it was slowly dissolving before her, and right before she was about to finish it. </p><p>This painting wasn’t intended to happen tonight anyhow; Clarke should have been with Lexa this night. Her jaws clench; she rubs her temples to relieve the tension before redirecting her attention to the painting.                              </p><p>After a few moments, she begins to notice that the accident gave the piece new life and texture. The illusion now that half the painting, the lower half, was a mirage. She liked it; deciding to keep it this way rather than starting over. </p><p>She reached for her brush loaded with titanium white and began adding breaks in the water and highlights to the opposing birds. </p><p>She rubbed her watering eyes as a yawn crept up, reminding her that it was late. She looked to window when light started to peek through, “morning already?” </p><p>Curious now, she walked over to check the time on her phone, unlocking it to find that she had three unread messages. Her eyebrow twitches when all three were from a ghost from her past. She chews on the inside of her lip as she decides whether to open the message or not. </p><p>With a free hand, she pulls on her face as she realizes the time, “5:35 a.m.”   </p><p>She needed to get sleep. </p><p>Chills run down her neck once she feels the cold smears of oil on her face. </p><p>She needed to wash her hands. Then, she could go to sleep.</p><p>********************</p><p>White walls and blank emotions have a deafening silence about them.</p><p>Lexa wondered if there was some code or rule that required all doctor waiting rooms to look the same. She could appreciate the minimalist design but it did nothing to comfort her. On her first trip to see this therapist she was taken aback by the lack of decorum. She was under the impression that therapy settings were supposed to be welcoming and warm, but she couldn’t tell you where that notion came from. </p><p>“Alexandra,” a familiar, emotionless voice cuts through Lexa’s thoughts. </p><p>She looks up to find Becca standing near her; the navy Birkin Bag perfectly contrasting the woman’s pearl, white sheath dress. Her mother was always one to make a statement with every outfit. </p><p>Subtle hints of rose and pear fill the space between them. The aroma brought forth memories of Lexa sneaking into her mother’s cabinets to try on all of her various perfumes and lotions. It was her way of being close to the woman; her essence neatly captured in a bottle.</p><p>“You look nice,” Lexa stands to embrace her mother, receiving a half-arm hug. Becca’s frame was rigid, foreign to Lexa; as if challenged to be the physical embodiment of the word disapproval.  </p><p>“Let’s go inside,” Becca ignores the compliment.</p><p>“After you,” Lexa steps aside, allowing Becca full access to the office door.</p><p>Their therapist’s office was more inviting than the waiting room. Lexa enjoyed the dark, leather brown sofas in contrast to the wooden, accented walls and windows. It felt like stepping into a cabin. She noticed with every visit, it felt more like visiting a friend’s home rather than a trained professional. </p><p>The tension between her shoulders began to relax, despite sitting next to her mother.</p><p>“Good morning,” Marcus Kane’s soothing voice welcomes them, “I’m happy to see that you both could make it today.”</p><p>Lexa wondered if this was a jab towards her father. Gustus has yet to make even one appearance at any of the scheduled therapy sessions. She grinds her teeth, shaking the impression from her mind; it was a reflection of her own mindset to assume that their therapist would be passive aggressive towards her father. </p><p>“Well, this one is of great importance to us,” Becca’s voice sharply demands. </p><p>Marcus nods, crossing his right leg over the left as he leans back into the chair. He pulls out a textured notepad that flopped under its own weight, bending at his will; Lexa thought it looked soft to the touch. </p><p>“Alright,” he clicks the pen in hand, “where would you both like to begin?”</p><p>Laced with venom, Becca’s voice is first, “I would love to hear Lexa’s defense for hurting Bellamy.” </p><p>“Instead of the term defense,” Marcus pipes up, “I prefer we use the term perspective.” He turns his attention to Lexa, “Lexa, are you comfortable sharing your perspective?”</p><p>Lexa trained her attention past Marcus’ head, onto a painting on the far wall. It was an image of a colonial soldier, standing bravely on what appeared to be an active battle ground. His face was neutral, refusing to betray the fear he must have felt. </p><p>“I assume this is about Clarke,” Lexa voice was strong; unwavering despite the emotions frantically competing for attention. She wasn’t going to let any emotions boil over; not here, not in front of her mother.</p><p>“This is about you doing everything in your power to be your father’s double,” Becca answers, her voice shakes as she takes a deep breath. </p><p>Lexa’s voice betrays her this time, “excuse me?” The words shake like the ground before an eruption.</p><p>“Let’s remember why we’re here,” Marcus uncrosses his legs, now leaning towards them, “This is a space for everyone to be heard.”</p><p>Both Lexa and Becca cross their arms over their chests, heads turned from one another. </p><p>“Becca,” Marcus tries once more, “can you elaborate on what makes you believe this? This way, we can understand your reasoning and Lexa will then be more equipped to address those concerns.”</p><p>Lexa fought the urge to tell him that no amount of explanation on her part would convince Becca Woods that she wasn’t just like her father. This fact plagued their relationship since Lexa started developing a personality.</p><p>“We don’t have enough time to fit this all into one session, Dr. Kane. But, I can dissolve my reasoning down to the most recent occurrence,” Becca pauses, steadying her breathing before continuing, “Years ago, my son was engaged to a woman that my husband ended up sleeping with. This broke Bellamy’s heart. I had lost hope that he would ever open his heart again, but then he started bringing this girl around, Clarke. I could see the joy she brought him and I hoped this would mean love for him again.”</p><p>Lexa squeezes her eyes, breathing slowly through her nose and out of her mouth; as much as the tightness in her chest would allow.</p><p>Becca uncrosses her arms, now bending one towards her face, waving it as if conducting a symphony for the remainder of her point, “Then my youngest, Lexa here, goes for the girl. The girl obviously fell for Lexa’s tactics and charm, leaving my Bellamy to suffer once more.”</p><p>“How long have you been practicing that monologue?” Lexa hisses.</p><p>“Watch your mouth,” Becca warns.</p><p>Marcus stands, palms facing the two women, “This is a safe place. We’re here to listen, not judge.” His reminders were falling short. He returns to his seat. </p><p>“You can’t convince me this was coincidental,” Becca chides. </p><p>“You haven’t given me the benefit of the doubt,” Lexa sets her jaw; “You are so quick to assume the worst in me. I didn’t set out to hurt Bellamy. Clarke is special to me and she wanted me, not Bellamy. I can’t control her choice!”</p><p>A laugh bursts out of Becca, startling Lexa. She slightly jerks, snapping her head towards her mother, whom seems to have lost it.</p><p>“You’re telling me out of all the women… yes I know about your trysts,” Becca squints at her daughter, “the one your brother has feelings for happens to be the one YOU,” she says this more forcibly, “fall for?”</p><p>Heat rises from Lexa’s belly, covering her back and neck. She wipes her dampened palms against her jeans. Her face was prickling; she fights the urge to rub at her face, knowing the action would incite more scolding from Becca. <i>The oils from your fingers are going to embed into your pores causing unsightly acne. </i> She can hear her mother saying.</p><p>“Becca, try to hear what Lexa is sharing,” Marcus’s voice now sounding like an echo. </p><p>“It wasn’t planned,” Lexa’s voice now softened from the suffocating squeeze in her heart. </p><p>“Yea well,” Becca stands from the sofa, straightening out her dress, “your father is never one for plans either.” </p><p>“Ms. Woods we’re not fi —” </p><p>“I’m finished,” Becca interrupts Marcus, waving her hand before exiting the office. </p><p>“Lexa, we still have time if you want to finish this session with me? We can discuss what happened here and try to unpack some things.” Marcus clears his throat trying to redirect Lexa’s attention.</p><p>She blinks, snapping her head up to look at him. He has a kind face buried beneath his disheveled beard. She wondered if the sloppy look was his aesthetic. </p><p>“Yea,” she decides, “I would like that.”</p><p>****************</p><p>Gnawing pings and squeezes in her hollow stomach wakes Clarke. She tries rolling over to her side, burying her head beneath the pillow to drown out her senses; her grumbling belly is not tamed.</p><p>“mmmmgrg,” she moans, raising to a seated position. Blonde tendrils flex and fall in her face, trying to settle from the static electricity generated from the pillow case. She pushes them away from her face, blinking to clear the sleep that has collected in the corners of her eyes. </p><p>She finds her phone lying on the adjacent pillow. To her surprise, the battery was clinging onto a fifteen percent charge. It also told her that it was now one in the afternoon; good thing she didn’t have any day plans for the day.</p><p>Being reminded of the unopened messages, she has the burden of deciding between opening them verses fulfilling her stomach’s desires for nourishment. However, the tenacity of her stomach’s growling ultimately made the decision for her. </p><p>She would eat first, respond later. </p><p>“Hey, love!” Raven welcomes Clarke into the kitchen.</p><p>The sizzling sounds of the oil in the skillet reach Clarke before the earthy and fresh scents of vegetables and tapioca flour do, “You’re frying squash?” She hoped Raven had enough for two. </p><p>“Yes ma’am, grab a plate and I’ll load you up,” Raven waves Clarke in with the fork in her hand. </p><p>“You’re a saint,” Clarke coos, giving Raven a peck on the cheek in gratitude. </p><p>“I’m surprised to see you back so soon from Lexa’s.” Raven drops several pieces onto Clarke’s plate.</p><p>Clarke carries her plate over to the counter, crawling onto the bar stool. Now, her gnawing pains in the stomach were replaced by a longing deep within her ribs. </p><p>“I didn’t stay over at her place,” Clarke takes a bite of the squash. She distracts her thoughts, focusing on the saltiness and crunch of the breading surrounding the sweet vegetable inside. </p><p>“Oh,” Raven’s tone drops, “I thought you said you were staying over.”</p><p>“I did,” Clarke tries to sound happier than she felt, “but Lexa wasn’t feeling well so I came home.”</p><p>“Trouble in paradise,” Raven clicks her tongue and returns to preparing more squash for its oily fry.</p><p>Maybe there was validity to the statement but Lexa didn’t give Clarke enough to justly come to this conclusion. Clarke recognized that Lexa was well within her right to ask for space. She just wanted to know why. Maybe that was wrong of her to expect?</p><p>Expect.</p><p>She hated that word. It was laced with strings like a corset and just as flexible as one structured with ivory bones. </p><p> “Murphy reached out to me,” Clarke knew this would distract Raven. </p><p>Raven drops the fork she was using to flip the squash in the pan. It lands, slinging batter and oil onto the counter. </p><p>“Holy shit,” Raven walks up to the counter in front of Clarke, placing both elbows on the marble, “how long has it been?”</p><p>
“Long enough,” Clarke doesn’t want to revisit the last time she spoke to him.</p><p>“What did the messages say?”</p><p>“Don’t know,” Clarke shrugs, “I haven’t read them yet.”</p><p>“Curiosity would get the best of me,” Raven snorts. </p><p>Clarke was definitely curious, but the emotions associated with him surpassed her interest. Somehow, something told her that opening those messages would open a new chapter in her life while bringing up old ones. </p><p>“I’m nervous,” she sighs. </p><p> “I think avoiding it is only going to cause you more anxiety.”</p><p>“You’re not my shrink, Raven.” Clarke giggles, sticking her tongue out at her best friend.</p><p>Knowing Raven is right, Clarke pulls her phone out of her sweatpants pocket to read the messages.</p><p>Murphy: I miss my best buddy</p><p>Murphy: I heard you moved.  I live just outside town from you. I would like to catch up and if you’re up for it, I’ll share my address.</p><p>Murphy: I understand if it’s too much though. No obligations.  </p><p>“Well?” Raven tugs on one of Clarke’s loose tendrils. </p><p>The tendons contracting in her back release her shoulders as she breathes out. Tiny curves form at the edges of her mouth as she closes her eyes, breathing in deeply through her nostrils. Her lungs welcomed the fresh breath, rejuvenating her. </p><p>“It’s good,” she chooses.</p><p>
Seeing his message made her realize how much she missed him. Part of her believed that she would grow accustomed to the empty space in her heart, but his reaching out gave her hope that she could have him in her life again.</p><p>A buzzing from her phone indicated a new message. Opening it, her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. </p><p>Lexa: Mulligan</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Rotating Emotions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Um,” Clarke slides out of her seat, “I gotta go.”</p><p>This day is full of surprises. </p><p>“Wha—okay?” Raven tilts her head at Clarke.</p><p>Clarke hasn’t sent or received a mulligan since she and Lexa officially started seeing one another. Her heart beat like a bass drum, pounding and reverberating throughout her chest and core. </p><p>“Sorry!” She calls over her shoulder as she sprints to her bedroom. </p><p>Raising her arm above her head, Clarke chances a sniff of her armpit; her nose and upper lip scrunch upon contact. She needed to shower.</p><p>Lexa’s place was less than a ten minute drive for Clarke. She figured she had time for a quick shower. Before hopping in, she sent a quick text to Lexa.</p><p>Clarke: Give me 15 mins :*</p><p>In her rush, Clarke neglected to allow the water time to warm before stepping into the shower. Goosebumps rose on pale skin that threatened to turn blue under the water. Wrapping arms around her torso, she stepped to the edge just outside the spray’s reach. It should only be a few minutes before it is safe to return.</p><p>
The pounding in her chest lost its tempo, slowing and transforming into butterflies fluttering throughout her chest. Until now, it didn’t cross her mind that Lexa sending a ‘mulligan’ could be an indication of something bad. </p><p>Once free from the shower, Clarke shuffled on her feet; pulling and twisting one of her lose hairs. Her eyes were fixated on the phone in her hands. She considered sending a text to see if Lexa was alright but that would kind of break the ‘mulligan’ rule. </p><p>She sighs.</p><p>Popping her knuckles, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a clean shirt. No matter what the reasoning, Clarke wouldn’t receive any answers until she was with Lexa. </p><p>********************</p><p>Lexa opens the door before Clarke’s knuckles can graze the wooden surface. She grabs the blonde’s wrist, pulling her into the house.</p><p>“Lexa,” Clarke gasps.</p><p>She didn’t want to hear her name right now. </p><p>“Shh,” Lexa begs, as she tastes and nips at Clarke’s collarbone. </p><p>“Can we ta—l” Clarke whimpers but Lexa hushes her words with a hungry kiss. </p><p>She pulled and sucked on Clarke’s bottom lip as she lifted the girl into her arms. The girl complies; wrapping her arms and legs around Lexa as she leads them into the bedroom. Lexa’s nerves release their grip as Clarke’s body presses against her own. </p><p>The sheets give way, stretching and supporting Lexa as she sits.  Clarke in her lap now, grinding her hips into Lexa, slowly rubbing their bodies together.</p><p>Lexa bends her head back, allowing Clarke access to her neck. She beckons every kiss and taste to take away her thoughts. Quiet; she wanted peace and the blonde’s body would be that haven. Lexa focuses on pushing every memory of the day from her mind like venom syphoned from a snake bite. </p><p>Her shoulders drop and her head leans to the side when Clarke’s kisses slow, eventually pulling away from Lexa altogether. </p><p>“Lexa,” Clarke’s eyes, now clouded with grey against a pale, blue sky, search Lexa’s for an explanation. </p><p>“Clarke, what are you doing,” Lexa huffs.</p><p>“What is this about? Where are you?” </p><p>Lexa shrugs Clarke’s arms from her shoulders, scooting the girl off of her lap, “You’re breaking mulligan rules.”</p><p>How could Clarke betray the rules of her own code? Lexa honored every single one, but this time, Clarke couldn’t honor an agreement they made long ago. Her cheeks burn from the inferno building inside her as every instinct tells her to run; to send Clarke home. </p><p>“Lexa, we’re not fooling around anymore. You do realize I’m your girlfriend now, right?”</p><p>Of course Lexa knew this. Like flies crawling across the flesh of a ripe banana, prickling sensations erupt in Lexa’s forehead. She raises her palms, pressing and making tiny circles to alleviate the agitation. Her breaths, labored now, come slowly as she tries to center herself. </p><p>
  <i>See? I told you. Gustus. You’re his double. You’re just as broken as he. Clarke is another notch in your belt. Couldn’t even make it a year before breaking her heart. </i>
</p><p>“Lexa,” Clarke’s voice sounded miles away.</p><p>Lexa squeezes her eyes shut, damming any tears from flowing. </p><p>A soft hand cups her face. </p><p>“What happened today,” Clarke whispers.</p><p>“I,” Lexa’s voice breaks, snapping in two like a dead oak branch, “can’t win with her.”</p><p>“Can’t win with whom?” Clarke scoots closer to Lexa, using the pad of her thumb to wipe away a rogue tear from Lexa’s eye. </p><p>“Becca. My mother,” Lexa breathes out; the breath forces past her lips, “Can we drop this conversation?”</p><p>“This is hardly a conversation but whatever,” Clarke’s voice exposed her frustration. It shook beneath the gravity of her resolve. </p><p>“Can we start over,” Lexa tries to shake the tremble in her voice, clearing her throat before adding, “Watch a movie or something?”</p><p>“Why can’t you just talk to me, Lexa?” </p><p>Lexa considers the question. Maybe Clarke doesn’t realize that other than Anya, she is the only other woman Lexa’s had a healthy relationship with.</p><p>Lexa holds her breath, steadying the rocking of her heart, “I am not ready to talk about it.”</p><p>This wasn’t entirely true but not entirely false, either. Lexa spent forty minutes discussing the issue with Dr. Kane; much more easily than she would have expected. However, the thought of sharing such vulnerabilities outside the walls of a clerical setting sent shivers down Lexa’s spine. Somehow, she believed releasing those vulnerabilities out in the open would enable them to take leverage over her.</p><p>“So instead of trusting me you prefer to have me over for a meaningless fuck?” Clarke’s voice was sharp; sounding like the blade of a knife rubbing against its sheath upon release.</p><p>“You’re choosing to see it that way,” Lexa levels her voice; building her wall brick by brick.</p><p>“Please enlighten me,” Clarke laughs.<br/>
“If it were meaningless, I could have called anyone else over here but I didn’t.” Lexa knew this sounded stupid the moment it left her mouth. </p><p>“Wow,” Clarke pulls her lips into her mouth, forming a straight line. Her eyebrows rise as she blinks rapidly, “good to know.”</p><p>“Clarke, wait,” Lexa pleads, reaching for the blonde before she can exit the room, “that came out wrong.”</p><p>Clarke turns around quickly; catching Lexa off guard, their noses nearly touch, “obviously you need some space to process and such. I’m going to go home and you can reach out when you’re ready to be present with me.”</p><p>“That’s fair,” Lexa whispers, her breath gently landing above Clarke’s lips.</p><p>“It’s okay that you’re going through things, Lexa… just don’t try to use me as some means to suppress your pain. I’m more than that rolodex of girls’ names you’ve got in your phone.”  Clarke cups the back of Lexa’s head, bringing their foreheads together, “remember that.”</p><p>Just as quickly as Clarke arrived, she was gone. Lexa stood outside on her porch, watching the breeze gently lift the leaves attached to tree limbs. The exposure of their white bellies indicated that a storm was approaching. </p><p>The ringtone blasting from her phone redirected her attention. She stepped inside to answer it: “Dad” was on the caller ID.</p><p>“What could he want right now?” She wonders aloud before answering. </p><p>***************</p><p>The evening, adult class in jiu jitsu could not have come at a better time. </p><p>Clarke preferred the early classes but after yesterday and today, she needed to release some tension as soon as possible. </p><p>Jiu Jitsu being the demanding sport it is, offered her the distraction she desperately needed. Instead of dwelling on what was happening in Lexa’s world, Clarke could focus on the movements of her opponent; avoiding any submission attempts. </p><p>Bellamy was teaching tonight’s class and graciously accepted Clarke’s offer to be sparring partners. </p><p>The more Clarke partnered with Bellamy, the closer she got to trusting him like once before. She knew that he took training seriously and wouldn’t compromise her learning for his own gain. She wished he afforded that same respect to his sister. </p><p>“Tap,” she calls out when he applies more pressure in the Kimora hold. </p><p>“Where is your head at, Griffin?” He scolds, tapping her on the forehead, “you’ve been countering that submission for weeks now.”</p><p>She didn’t need him to remind her. </p><p>“Enough,” she waves her hand at him, “let’s go again.”</p><p>“Okay bu—”</p><p>“Bellamy!”  A voice shouts across the room.</p><p>Bellamy and Clarke turn their heads to see a nearly unrecognizable Lexa approaching them. The sight was alarming; Clarke felt the need to back away. The brunette’s eyes were ablaze above her pursed lips as she stomped towards them.</p><p>“Lexa what’s wrong?” Bellamy stands, his eyebrows creased. </p><p>“I lost my job because of you!” She shouts at him, poking him in the chest with her index finger, nearly causing him to trip over a raised section of the mats.</p><p>Tears sting and threaten to pore from Clarke’s eyes; overwhelmed with concern and confusion.</p><p>“Whoa, hold on,” Bellamy implores, “I know nothing about this.” </p><p>Neither did Clarke. Is this what was bothering Lexa earlier? But why would she wait until now to publicly display her emotions? </p><p>“I tried, Bellamy,” Lexa hiccups, “I wanted to fix things but you can’t see past your own nose.” She clenches her jaw, “I’m through with you.” </p><p>With that, Clarke chases after Lexa as the girl practically runs out of the gym.</p><p>“Lexa!” Clarke cries out. </p><p>“Clarke, please,” Lexa’s sobs come forth, breaking her speech.</p><p>Clarke grabs her, pulling her into a deep embrace, “shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You don’t have to talk about it. I’m here.” </p><p>Her hand falls and shakes with each of Lexa’s jagged breaths. She continues to rub, trying to soothe the girl. </p><p>“Stay with me tonight?” Lexa asks, her eyes begging for comfort. </p><p>“Of course,” Clarke kisses the corners of Lexa’s mouth, “I just need to grab some overnight stuff then I’ll…”</p><p>“Just wear my stuff,” a few, soft giggles escape Lexa’s mouth before she hiccups once more. </p><p>“Alright,” Clarke smiles, pushing the lose hair from Lexa’s eyes, “Let’s go to your place.”</p><p>Clarke had so many questions. Did she hear Lexa correctly? Did Lexa say she lost her job? And because of Bellamy? She had no clue what any of it meant but her understanding did not matter in this moment. Lexa needed her and Clarke was determined to be that rock for her</p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Princess</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clarke: Let’s meet at the Ark Coffee shop on fifth, around 10 a.m?</p><p>Clarke looks up from her phone after hitting send. Her mouth splits into a smile; her bottom and top teeth exposed as her tongue slips between them. </p><p>Lexa was squatting in front the canvas, twisting her head one way and then the other as if trying to crack a secret code. Clarke’s cheek glowed pink at the sight of blue and grey oils smeared on the brunette’s overalls; it was adorable.</p><p>“I thought you said this would be cathartic?” Lexa asks, turning to Clarke, carefully holding a plate underneath her brush. </p><p>“It is,” Clarke walks up to her, taking the hand holding the brush.</p><p>“Careful,” Lexa brings the plate underneath it once more, “It will drip onto the floor and make a mess.”</p><p>Clarke relaxes the muscles in her chest, not fighting the onslaught of giggles that were surfacing, “painting is supposed to be messy.” </p><p>Eyeing the pool of oils on the plate, Clarke sticks her finger into the cool and thick liquids. The corners of her mouth twist and a single eyebrow arches; warning signals for Lexa. </p><p>“Clarke, no” Lexa’s face twists, obviously trying to fight the smile possessing her face. She flinches, trying to jerk out of reach. </p><p>Lexa was too slow.</p><p>Clarke wiped the paints down the prominent bridge of Lexa’s nose. </p><p>“Oh my god,” a burst of laughter cascades from Lexa’s lungs, “you’re a child!”</p><p>This was Clarke’s favorite version of Lexa; silly and slightly exasperated. After last night’s events, it was nice to see Lexa seeming more like her. They spent most of the night with Clarke cradling Lexa until the spell subsided and the girl finally fell asleep. </p><p>It wasn’t until that moment would Clarke be able to relax enough to sleep, herself.</p><p>“Yea,” Clarke scrunches her nose, biting her lower lip, “You love it, though.”</p><p>“Come here,” Lexa pulls on Clarke’s shirt, bringing their lips crashing together.</p><p>The chill of the oils now on Clarke’s face competed against the warmth burning from her belly. She moaned against Lexa’s lips, tasting the subtle hints of almond butter from their breakfast toast.</p><p>Lexa pulls back slightly, wearing that lopsided grin that makes Clarke’s knees forget their function.</p><p>“I like kissing you,” she hears the brunette whisper. </p><p>“Makes sense,” Clarke winks, “I’m an excellent kisser.” </p><p>She wondered if now would be a good time to get Lexa to talk. She stood there sharing eye contact with emerald glows while gently grinding the inside of her cheek between her teeth. </p><p>*************</p><p>Please don’t. </p><p>Lexa hoped that the pleading look in her eyes would deter Clarke from asking a particular question.</p><p>“Lexa, can we talk about what happened?”</p><p>Alas, no such luck. There was the question; the one she knew would come; the one that she knew deserved answering but wasn’t quite ready to say aloud. She didn’t understand her own persistence in holding this information so closely. <i>She could trust Clarke. She didn’t have to carry this all on her own</i>, Dr. Kane would remind her if he were observing this moment.</p><p>“I’m no longer the CEO of Trikru,” Lexa sighs, “My dad informed me yesterday that my mother asked him to resume his position as CEO and that I was not to work for the company.”</p><p>“What the hell?” Clarke’s voice elevated with every syllable, “Why?”</p><p>Lexa shrugged. She had a few ideas but nothing to prove them with, “Not sure but my dad assured me it should only be temporary and that I would still receive my normal compensation during the interim.”</p><p> “Why did you blame Bellamy then?”</p><p>Ah, well that had to do with a hunch. Becca took little to no interest in Gustus’ company. For her to insert her dominion could only mean one thing in Lexa’s eyes: vindication. At least, it was justice in the eyes of mama Woods. Lexa knew that it wasn’t coincidental Gustus received those orders on the day she had that unbridled therapy session with her mom. </p><p>Becca wanted to hurt Lexa like how she thinks Lexa intentionally hurt Bellamy. This was all speculative, though.</p><p>“Intuition,” Lexa decides. </p><p>Clarke nods slowly, her left eyebrow twitching as she shifts weight between the heels of her feet. </p><p>Clarke was a smart girl; Lexa knew she had the faculties to connect the dots. </p><p>“What are you going to do?”</p><p>This question has been on repeat in Lexa’s mind. Learning how to run the company and finally being given the reigns consumed Lexa’s young adult life. It was understood that she would follow in her father’s footsteps, becoming the leader of the company. It never occurred to her that it could all be taken away. </p><p>Who was she without the company? Without the responsibility? What was her purpose now?</p><p>“I have to talk to Lincoln and let him know.” She settles.</p><p>Lincoln uprooted his life in New York to move here to work closely with Lexa. Now, she was going to have to warn him that he may be required to return; at least for a short while. Her stomach dropped; she felt hollow throughout her core.</p><p>She hoped that Gustus would soon grow a backbone and stand up to Becca. </p><p>“I think that’s a good idea,” Clarke’s voice was soft now; supportive.</p><p>Clarke’s phone rattles against the wooden table; a message alert. </p><p>“Do you mind if I see him soon? I want to speak to him as soon as possible.” Lexa hated the thought of him finding out through some faceless representative from human resources. </p><p>Clarke looked up from her phone, “Absolutely. I’m meeting someone in a little bit so that works perfectly.”</p><p>“Oh, a new client?” Lexa perks up. She got excited for Clarke whenever she got new clients. The energy inspired the blonde and Lexa enjoyed watching her creativity flourish.</p><p>“Uh,” Clarke’s eyebrows furrow as she stares down at the floor, “maybe!” She pops her head back up, smiling again. </p><p>Odd. </p><p>“Excellent,” Lexa decides to ignore whatever just occurred. </p><p>************************</p><p>“Sorry, I’m late,” Clarke releases a labored breath as she dumps her wad of keys onto the table. </p><p>“Dude!” Murphy grins, the corners of his mouth making perfect arrow points, “It’s so good to see you!”</p><p>He stands up, pulling Clarke into an embrace; tobacco and tea leaves fill her senses, yep it was Murphy alright. The stress she was carrying in her chest relaxed into the hug. </p><p>“Have you lost weight?” She tugs on his loose hanging tee shirt. </p><p>“Maybe a little,” He shrugs, “I’ve been doing a lot of outdoor shit.”</p><p>Other than toning up, he still looked the same to her. His hair was still slicked back, controlling it from falling into his blue eyes that were dimmer than her own. </p><p>It is approaching four years since she last saw him, and she thought about how much has changed since then. Parallel to that were the things that didn’t change; things she refused to touch. </p><p>“Interesting,” her eyes widen, “tell me more.”</p><p>She listened as he explained his various hobbies: hiking, bouldering, and kayaking. His face glowed brighter with every detail he could share about the skills he has developed over the years. She deeply inhaled through her nose, filling the emptiness in her chest. The more she learned about this version of him, the more it reminded her on how much she missed. </p><p>It was good to see him healthy. </p><p>“Wow,” She grins, “my girlfriend loves climbing, too. I don’t get it.”</p><p>“Girlfriend?” Murphy coughs, wiping the splatter of coffee droplets from his lips and chin, “since when do you settle down?”</p><p>Right. </p><p>Here before her was one of the greatest influences in her refusal to be tied down. Since childhood, Murphy was a free spirit and Clarke envied his ability to exist in a world without obligation. Eventually, she would learn to pick up his habits and adopt them into her own psyche; for the better, of course. </p><p>Her life did become easier once she learned to absolve herself of obligations. But, she had to pay the ultimate price for this gift. </p><p>“She is different,” Clarke presses her lips into a smile, her ears raise with the gesture, “Worth it.” She adds. </p><p>“Good for you, princess,” He places a hand on top of hers. </p><p>Princess.</p><p>Her heart contracts; holding onto the tension until it felt like she couldn’t swallow. The walls in the café shop move in towards her, trapping her in a tiny box. She grips the sides of the table, willing her eyes to focus; breathe, one, two, and three. She repeats the numbers to herself until the static in her ears vanished.  </p><p>“Don’t call me that,” She says once her vision focuses and the walls are neatly returned to their place. </p><p>“Right, sorry,” He reaches out again, resting a hand on her forearm, “I forgot.”</p><p>Her phone buzzes before a melody spills from it, indicating an incoming call. She looks down at the screen. </p><p>“Bellamy”</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Inward-looking, Outward-masking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Do you need to answer that,” Murphy points to Clarke’s phone, as it vibrates and flashes with the word Bellamy stretched across the screen. </p><p>Clarke flips the phone over, laying the screen flat against the table; she would have thrown the device in a more private sector. </p><p>“It’s not important,” she forces a smile, “Are you seeing anyone these days?”</p><p>Talking to or about Bellamy was the last thing she wanted to chance. Things were still unclear, like looking through a frosted window in fall, and she wasn’t ready to process her observations. Part of her believed Bellamy deserved benefit of the doubt but a greater part of her was reminded of his lies and immaturity. </p><p>“A few people,” Murphy grins, one side of his mouth more slanted than the other, “you know how it goes.. never anything serious.”</p><p>This time last year Clarke would have answered similarly, something resembling resentment rolled in her stomach, and she remembered how simple things were then. She thought about that, about her life without any strings or commitments. But just as quickly resentment boiled, it was tampered out by a greater feeling; loneliness. </p><p>What she traded for freedom was the lack of connection. After losing her father, Clarke expended every effort to shy from relations, not wanting to lose another to Life’s cruel hand, and for many years, this suited her. It wasn’t until she met Lexa did loneliness make itself known, as if it were a panther stalking a rabbit; she hated that feeling. She hated the feeling of isolation more than she hated loss. </p><p>Lexa made her feel safe. </p><p>“That’s great,” She pauses, realizing that she wants to do something special for Lexa. “I’m sorry to do this but can we meet up again, another time?” </p><p>She knew Lexa was meeting with Lincoln, and that should buy her enough time to grab some items. She wanted to surprise Lexa with a nice evening, something distracting; it was the best thing she knew to offer. Clarke wanted Lexa to know that she was there for her, a shoulder to lean on, and she hoped the gesture would communicate this.</p><p>Her time with Murphy could wait.</p><p>******************</p><p>“As of now, I’ve been able to convince him to let you work from here but I don’t know how long that will last,” Lexa sucks in a breath, “Like I said, my dad claims this is only temporary. I’m sorry, Lincoln.”</p><p>Lincoln smiles, his eyes still holding that spark, like a twinkling star against the blanketed, night sky, “Lexa, I’m not worried about this, but I appreciate you for telling me. Are you okay?”</p><p>She gritted her teeth, her jaw line buckles against the action, and she does her best to avoid his gaze. </p><p>“I will be,” she looks over her shoulder, observing the birds outside the restaurant window as they bounced around, picking up trash. She thought the litter couldn’t be too healthy for the birds, the majority of it being fries, but the birds looked happy enough. She decided it wasn’t any of her business whether or not the birds should be eating oil fried starch or not.</p><p>“Have you considered that this may be a good thing?” Lincoln leans forward, forcing her to look at him.</p><p>She snaps her eyes from the feasting birds, narrowing her gaze at him, “Why would I? That makes no sense to me,” She shakes her head, folding the napkin lying on the table so she could focus on making tight creases in the folds. </p><p>He places his hands over her knuckles, his making her own look like those belonging to a porcelain doll, “Sometimes things like this happen so we can learn and grow.”</p><p>“Ha, you should stick to numbers, my friend,” Lexa teases. </p><p>“Maybe,” He chuckles causing the corners of his mouth to stretch, “but it’s worth taking this time to explore who you are outside of Trikru, Lexa.”</p><p>“Here is your order,” the waitress states as she slides their plates in front of them, pausing to grab Lexa’s attention to flash a smile at her. The girl had short brown hair and golden eyes. Her smile was warm, matching the fire burning in her eyes. </p><p>Lexa nodded and returned her attention to the plate of food before her. The girl’s beauty wasn’t lost on Lexa, but she paled in comparison to a certain blue eyed girl that had a grip on Lexa’s heart. If circumstances were different, Lexa may have requested a phone number; may have sent a text; and may have spent at least one night with the stranger. None of that would happen because none of that was worth risking Lexa’s relationship with Clarke. Lexa was content with that.</p><p>“Mmm,” Lincoln hums, “they have the best breakfast sandos.”</p><p>Lexa tried to keep her face neutral. She watched as the oils from the egg and bacon slid down the corners of his mouth. At the rate he was eating, that slab of protein on protein on bread would be gone before she could taste the tartness in her yogurt parfait. She started counting the bites; one, two and half, three, the sandwich nearly gone now. Every bite created a story in her mind, one where the grease clung to the inner walls of his arteries, slowly building up before nothing could pass through, and all she wanted now was to help her friend.</p><p>“Let’s go rock climbing,” She decides; thinking the physical exertion would be a win, win. He could live past forty and she could expel some of this anxiety suffocating her. </p><p>“Oh, um,” he swallows the last bite of his death trap, “sure!”</p><p>“Awesome, let’s meet at Mount Weather Climbing at around,” She looks at her watch, “two?”</p><p>“Works for me!”</p><p>A moment so brief, she nearly missed it, suggested reaching out to Bellamy to join them. She swatted that thought away, like a persistent gnat hovering over your food; she wouldn’t let the thought land.</p><p>This new chapter in her life wouldn’t involve him.</p><p>****************</p><p>“Thanks for letting me borrow this,” Clarke hoists the inflatable pool into the bed of her truck. Anya slings the bag of balls right behind it. </p><p>“Surprising Lexa, huh?” Anya helps Clarke close the door, pushing hard enough to hear the crisp clasp of the lock.</p><p>The last time they all played in this thing stood out to Clarke. Lexa looked so carefree and happy, kicking and throwing the plastic balls around like a retriever in a mud pit. Clarke hoped this would be a good decompressor since painting didn’t do the trick.</p><p>“Pretty much,” Clarke leans against the truck, Anya mirrors her movement, “I’m trying to help her keep her mind off of things.”</p><p>“Like what,” Anya’s eyebrows furrow, so dramatically that Clarke thought they looked like a caricature. </p><p>“Lexa losing her job,” Clarke blurts out. </p><p>“Hold on,” Anya propels from the truck, turning to face Clarke, “what the hell are you talking about?”</p><p>It didn’t occur to Clarke that Anya may not know yet. Damn; this may get her in trouble later. </p><p>“Shit,” Clarke rubs her face, “I assumed Bellamy would have told you.”</p><p>“Bellamy knows? And I don’t?” Anya’s voice nearing shouting levels now. </p><p>“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Clarke tries to backtrack, having about as much luck as walking on ice with shoes that have zero traction. </p><p>“Too late now,” Anya stands in front of her, squaring her feet and shoulders trying on her most fierce look, “tell me what you know.”</p><p>Clarke had already messed up by spilling the news, she wasn’t about to dig a deeper grave. <i> That no-strings life is sounding pretty good right now, eh Griffey?</i> , she can hear Murphy mocking her. </p><p>“I think you should talk to Lexa,” Clarke stands her ground.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Ego, my Friend, my Enemy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Oh, so you are alive,” Anya states, her voice dripping with sarcasm, like an ice cream cone under the summer’s sun. </p><p>Lexa may have ignored more than a handful of her sister’s attempts to reach her. Clarke admitted to her slip up and Lexa wasn’t in the mood to talk about the incident; being fired or temporarily let go wasn’t something she was particularly fond of. She knew Anya would want to fix it, tinkering away at solutions until she found the right fit, much like trying to piece together furniture from Ikea. </p><p>“I’ve not been in the mood to talk,” Lexa squeezes past her sister, entering the cabin themed office. She took her spot on the couch, and the cushion buckled under her weight, molding and gripping her like a hug from a grandmother. </p><p>“How fortunate we have this session together, then,” Anya’s lip curls.</p><p>This session was no coincidence. </p><p>“I know you requested this,” Lexa points her eyebrow, staring at her sister as she claims the cushion next to her; “You can sit on the other end.” Lexa suggests as she squirms, trying to create some space between them, but the armrest of the couch was holding her in place. She could have sworn the arms swayed and adjusted in order to keep her there. </p><p>“Nah, this is cozy,” Anya nuzzles closer to Lexa. </p><p>“Good morning, Lexa and Anya,” Dr. Kane beams as he enters the room. Lexa noted that his beard looked trimmed, more kept than previous sessions. </p><p>“Good morning,” they mirror his greeting. </p><p>“Anya since you requested this session,” He pauses and slides the glasses down the bridge of his nose, eying the brief elbow nudge Lexa dug into Anya’s ribs, “would you like to begin today’s session?”</p><p>“Absolutely,” the cheer pours out of her mouth, “I want to know why you didn’t tell me that mom had you removed from Trikru?”</p><p>“Because it’s none of your business,” Lexa tampers the growl in her voice. </p><p>“Lexa, try to imagine Anya’s perspective,” Dr. Kane encourages, “Anya, maybe open up about how that makes you feel.”</p><p>“Like shit, honestly. It makes me feel like you don’t trust me,” Anya huffs. </p><p>How was it that this happened to Lexa but she was responsible for everyone else’s feelings? Regardless, she didn’t like knowing her space was hurting Anya. </p><p>“I wasn’t ready to talk about it and it had nothing to do with you or not trusting you. I know you’ll come to my defense but in this case, I doubt there is much you can do with our parents.” Lexa sighed, scrunching her nose to alleviate the prickling sensation that popped up.</p><p>“You realize I grew up in that house too, yea?”</p><p>She had a point. It wasn’t like Anya was a stranger to their parents’ manipulations. </p><p>“Is this why you didn’t attend our session last week?” Dr. Kane cuts in. </p><p>She thought about the ramifications of telling her therapist that she was terrified of opening that door. It reminded her of the kind of doors in horror films, the ones that have rusted blood stains on the knob, daring anyone to peek inside, only to be met with their greatest fears. </p><p>“I suppose,” she breathes out, tilting her head to the side to pop her neck. </p><p>“It’s best to work through these things,” Dr. Kane softens his voice, “better now than carry them around for years only to unpack them at a later time.”</p><p>She agreed but that didn’t make the choice any easier. </p><p>“You don’t have to work through this alone, Lex,” Anya rests a hand on Lexa’s knee, squeezing slightly. It was a comforting gesture, and Lexa could imagine it being the equivalent to being handed a warm cup of cocoa while standing outside catching snowflakes on the bridge of your nose. </p><p>“What if I don’t like who I am without that company?” Lexa blinks, forbidding the tears from falling.</p><p>“Then we’ll work on helping you be the best version of you,” Dr. Kane reassures her. His eyes glistened, holding onto ounces of hope that she felt he would share with her. </p><p>The moment was brief but it happened; in it she felt brave, she believed this would all work out in the end. </p><p>The corners of her mouth turn upwards as a few tears roll down.</p><p>****************</p><p>Clarke bounces, pulling the jeans over her hips. She loved the way skinny, black jeans upgraded every outfit, taking it from casual to “damn girl, are we going out?” This was true even if you threw on a basic tee; which is what she did. The outfit took little planning on her part and was born out of pure necessity; most of her clothes were waiting in a pile of laundry on her floor, begging to be washed.</p><p>“Going out to meet Murphy again?” Raven shouts from the bathroom. </p><p>“Yes,” Clarke pulls her head through the crew neck, “want to join us? We’re getting pasta at Noodles &amp; Co.”</p><p>“Tempting but I told Anya we would hang out after her session with Lexa,” Raven enters Clarke’s room, eyeing the outfit; “you look hot. I didn’t think you and Murphy got down like that.” She sticks her tongue between her teeth, suppressing a flurry of giggles. </p><p>“It’s basically all I have that is clean,” Clarke shrugs.</p><p>“Is Lexa joining you guys?”</p><p>It was an innocent question, but a hollowness swallowing up her essence suggested otherwise. Clarke still hasn’t talked to Lexa about Murphy. The decision to withhold that information wasn’t intentional, it was more about the timing, but she found that with every passing day, it grew more difficult to find an appropriate moment to mention him. </p><p>And when she does, what will she say?</p><p>“No, I think she has her own stuff today,” Clarke busies herself with the makeup spread out across her vanity. </p><p>She didn’t lie. Lexa had a meeting this afternoon and made plans to see Clarke tomorrow.</p><p>“Okay, well when you see her, tell her to host another pool party. That shit was a blast,” Raven wiggles her eyebrows before skipping down the hallway. </p><p>She picked up her phone to see the time, “Shit,” she mutters. She only had ten minutes left before meeting Murphy. Why was time so unruly, she thought? </p><p>******************</p><p>Lexa’s frame stiffens, her arms glued to her sides. </p><p>“It’s good to see you,” Gustus whispers against her hair as he wraps his arms around her. She imagined this is what deer felt like in the arms of a grizzly bear.</p><p>“Sit down,” She gestures towards the open booth before sliding into her seat opposite of him.</p><p>“Tell me how things are going,” he smiles, pressing his elbows onto the table, “Doing any traveling with you free time?”</p><p>Free time. Is that really what he was labeling it?</p><p>“We’re not here to catch up, Gustus.” Her voice remains neutral. She nods towards the waiter that brings their menus. She wasn’t hungry but knew she needed to eat something. She didn’t want her blood sugar to start making a scene. </p><p>“Oh, c’mon, Lexie,” He whines, “Is this about that blonde girl? You know I didn’t know she was your girl.”</p><p>Would it have changed anything if he had, she wanted to ask. </p><p>“I thought if anyone could give me the benefit of the doubt, it would be you because you—”</p><p>“Just like you,” Lexa finishes his sentence. Her voice was a warning. </p><p>His ears set back and his smile fades, like the expression of the villain when the hero reveals his motives, “We’re different and there is no harm in being different.”</p><p>“Except when it hurts the ones around you, the ones you supposedly care about.” She swallows the anger trying to erupt. This wasn’t the time or place.</p><p>“Let’s get back on topic,” She shifts the energy, taking control of the situation, “I comprised a list of daily items and upcoming projects I was personally involved with.” She slides the notebook in front of him, “let me know if you need any clarifications. My assistant should be able to get you up to task with most anything.”</p><p>“You know I built this company,” Gustus establishes his confidence, “but thanks for getting this all together.” </p><p>She suspected he was using the company as a ploy to get her to meet him. </p><p>“What do you want?” Lexa cuts to the chase. </p><p>They are briefly interrupted by the returning waiter, setting out their water and sliced lemons. Gustus winks at him. Was there any one this man didn’t flirt with? </p><p>“I need you to make things right with your mother,” Gustus turns his attention to Lexa, “I didn’t want to come out of retirement and she is determined to make my life hell if I reinstate you.”</p><p>“Why is she doing this?”</p><p>“Why do you think?!” He takes a large swig of his beverage, “Ah,” he coos, “I love crisp water.”</p><p>“Because of Clarke?”</p><p>“Is that the blonde’s name?”</p><p>Lexa rolled her eyes, “Yes.”</p><p>“Then yes,” He turns to smile at the approaching waiter, rattling off his order. Lexa does the same.</p><p>“Did Bellamy have anything to do with this?” She grabs her own glass, letting the cool water tamper out the building steam forming in her belly, like a Dutch oven radiating and distributing heat throughout her body.</p><p>“I do not know,” Gustus scoffs, “wouldn’t surprise me. He has always been the weak one of you three.”</p><p>Lexa flinched. No matter how upset she was with her brother, it still pained her to hear their father say such things. </p><p>“How am I supposed to fix this?” </p><p>The question was mostly rhetorical. You see, it wasn’t her thing to fix. Becca and Bellamy were the ones carrying this anger and resentment and Lexa doubted she could control or change any of that.</p><p>“Not sure but you can figure that out. Can’t you?” He narrows his eyes at her.</p><p>Suddenly she felt like that curly headed girl sitting on her dad’s leg, promising him that she would make him proud. Whether you agreed with his actions or not, Gustus had the type of energy that was captivating. You wanted his attention and his attention was like catching fairies in a magical forest. She learned early on that the more she was like him, the more he took interest in her.</p><p>“Here’s yer orders,” the waiter sets the plates before them. Lexa gently smiles at him. </p><p>“I love southern accents,” Gustus giggles, picking at the pasta on his plate before popping a bite into his mouth, “Hey, isn’t that Claire?” </p><p>Before she could ask who Claire was, Lexa looked in the direction he was facing to see Clarke approaching the restaurant. Maybe the windows were playing tricks on her but it looked like Clarke was walking arm in arm with a man Lexa has never seen before. Lexa holds her breath as a flurry of flutters attempt to spill out of her body. </p><p>Was Clarke on a date?</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Redbirds</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Lexa,” Clarke stands, scooting away from the table where she and Murphy were sat; the legs of the chair scrape against the tile flooring, squealing like the brakes of a train, the sound elevated the already fast beating of Clarke’s heart. </p><p>“Did we interrupt something,” Lexa asks, her voice hollow, sucking the air from the room. Chills race down Clarke’s spine.</p><p>This wasn’t how Clarke imagined introducing them.</p><p>“Not at all,” she hurries to say, reaching out for Lexa’s hand, only for it to be pulled out of reach from her. </p><p>“Nice to see you again,” Gustus inserts himself into the conversation. </p><p>She was surprised to see that he was the one Lexa was meeting with today. Why had she not told her? A flame threatened to ignite between her ribs but she remembered something, an idiom; the pot calling the kettle black. She had zero ground to stand on. Here she was keeping secrets from Lexa and in turn, wanted to be upset with the girl for not being forthright. Strings; she wanted to blame. This wasn’t her.</p><p>The trenches growing deeper between Lexa’s eyes worried Clarke. She watched those green orbs move between focusing on her own blue and to Murphy, whom was still seated. Maybe she should get on with the introductions.</p><p>“Lexa, this is Murphy,” She says, ignoring Gustus, “Murphy this is my girlfriend, Lexa.”</p><p>“What is his identifier?” Lexa quips, wearing something on her grin that could only be described as the sinister cousin to amusement. Clarke was getting the impression that Lexa suspected something beyond friendship, here. The thought of it made her throat constrict, she swallowed, and the emotions slid down her trachea like sticky peanut butter. </p><p>“I usually answer to Murphy, murph, hey you, dumbass,” Murphy giggles, “and more that are reserved for bedroom talk, you understand?” </p><p>“He is an old friend,” Clarke keeps her answer simple. </p><p>“Close in age,” He adds, “but we have known each other since we were...” his voice trails off, “what, like 8 or 10?” </p><p>“Something like that,” Clarke agrees. </p><p>She wants to get out of this conversation, out of this loop, a Skip It toy winding around her ankle threatening to trap her there until she misses her jump, ending the momentum.</p><p>Clarke can barely acknowledge her feelings surrounding her father’s death. How was she supposed to explain who Murphy was without revisiting her darkest moments? Murphy was more than a friend; he was a symbol, a living totem to remind her of the choices she made then and the consequences that changed her life forever. She wasn’t ready to reopen that part of her life, and Lexa had stepped into it, a wrecking ball breaking through the carefully constructed layers of drywall. </p><p>“Can we talk this afternoon,” Clarke whispers below Lexa’s ear.</p><p>Lexa chewed on the bottom of her lip, grinding her teeth across the soft flesh, “Yes.”</p><p>Clarke raised to the tips of her toes, a ballerina in pointe, and kissed the brunette’s rosy cheek. The heat warmed her lips. She lingered there, hoping the pressure she applied reassured her lover that they were okay, that Clarke was faithful, and that she could explain it all. </p><p>That is a lot of pressure for one kiss, but she set her intentions just the same.</p><p>She watched Lexa and Gustus leave. Her heart threw itself against her chest, a puppy pressing against the door wanting to follow its owner to work. She rubbed her own shoulder, pressing her nose into the crease of her arm that touched Lexa; she wanted to smell those notes of sandalwood to rest her beating heart.</p><p>“That was a gorgeous man.”</p><p>She heard Murphy say. She turned to look at him, her eyes rolled, exposing the whites of their bellies, “you did not just say that.”</p><p>“What?” he laughed, “You know I’m bi.”</p><p>She dropped her head slightly, scratching her eyebrow with a single pinky, “It’s not about that. Just…” she shook her head, “Just don’t go there.”</p><p>“Too late,” he snickered, waving a napkin in front of her face.</p><p>She snatched the cloth from his hands, turning it over to see a set of digits neatly printed across it. Unbelievable; she thought.</p><p>“Please don’t call him, that’s Lexa’s dad,” she sighs, “and it’s complicated.”</p><p>Murphy’s eyebrows raise, “fine but you owe me.” He sticks out his tongue, “let’s order food! I’m starving!”</p><p>***************</p><p>Lexa pulled her Jeep off the side of the dirt road; Lincoln’s truck was meters behind. He whipped his vehicle into place next to her, grinning at her like a devil through the window. He was excited to climb. </p><p>It was the same spot Clarke panicked over Lexa’s superficial scratch from her miss. Lexa smiled at the memory but uneasiness rattled in her belly, she took a deep breath to settle the tremors. It was frustrating that her mind refused to give Clarke the benefit of doubt.</p><p>“God this place is beautiful,” he nearly shouted. He placed both hands on his hip and leaned back to look up at the top of the waterfall. It would be nice to see this place for the first time again; Lexa forgot what it was like. She had a tendency for taking things for granted.</p><p>“Quit drooling and help me unload this shit,” she drug out the climbing harnesses and ropes, dropping them onto the ground next to her feet. A redbird swooped down just as she was about to collect the items, it narrowly missed her face, swiping her hair on it's descent. She jerks back; that was close, she thought. She gathered her mane, pulling it into a tight pony-tail, slipping the hair tie from her wrist to tightly secure it into place. </p><p>The sooner they started climbing, the sooner she could stop thinking about Clarke and her… date. She believed that he was an old friend, as Clarke stated, but she knew there was something more there, a bass waiting below the surface for the dragonfly to land on the lily above. How has Lexa not heard about Murphy, this childhood friend of Clarke’s? </p><p>The humming of an engine approaching broke her attention.</p><p>Bellamy.</p><p>Sharpness pinged in her chest, a star bursting sending waves throughout the galaxy. She considered the possibility that he would choose to climb here, too, but reason convinced her chances were too low; apparently not true.</p><p>“We were here first,” She asserts, not giving Bellamy and his friend time to hop out of the vehicle. </p><p>He poked his head through the open window on his SUV, “Lexa, there is plenty of space.” There he was, behaving like that red bird from moments ago; invading her space like they had a right to. </p><p>She shook her head, raising her eyebrow, an arrowhead pointed and ready to aim. She didn’t care how petty this was but she was not about to spend this time in his presence. Could this day get any more difficult, she thought to herself? </p><p>Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something. Maybe it was a hex from a former lover. Something. Something had to account for this fuckery. </p><p>“Fine; we’ll go somewhere else but you have to talk to me…tell me what’s going with your job stuff.”</p><p>She laughed. It was loud, piercing, a punch to the throat, “You do not get to make demands or deals. If you want to talk then we can schedule it with Dr. Kane, beyond that…” she cleared her throat, “I have nothing more to say to you.”</p><p>“Will you schedule it?” His voice was low, barely above a whisper. </p><p>With one quick nod she sends them off. </p><p>“Now,” she turns to Lincoln, a painted smile on her face, “Let’s climb!”</p><p>**************</p><p>“Mom, I can’t come over tonight,” Clarke sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, little red spots forming at the touch. </p><p>“I told you, I have plans with…” Clarke listens as her mom rattles off nonsense about how long it’s been since Clarke has visited her dear mother. Once the criticism ends, or rather slows down, Clarke tries once more, “we can plan something later in the week. Okay?”</p><p>“Um…” she tilts her head, releasing the pressure building there, “yea, tomorrow night. Dinner.”</p><p>“Tofu, please,” she adds. </p><p>Abby didn’t approve of Clarke’s dietary choices; she thought meat was a vital part of every meal. Clarke tried to explain the importance of plant-based proteins, but it fell on deaf ears; Abby was the one with the doctorate after all.</p><p>“Fine, just make a portion without meat,” she tries to sound gracious, “thanks.”</p><p>Her mom was making her infamous chicken casserole, and this could only mean one thing: someone special would be joining them. When her mom agreed to make the entire dish vegan, Clarke knew her mom was trying to make a good impression; willing to do anything to get Clarke to show.</p><p>Clarke agrees to the date and time, flinching at her mother’s pleasure, nails on a chalkboard raking down the surface. </p><p>“Can I bring a date?” she wants backup.  </p><p>Her mom agrees and Clarke accepts the small win. She needed it. </p><p>She intended on explaining the Murphy stuff to Lexa tonight, but the brunette hasn’t answered any texts or calls, “Real mature,” she mutters to herself. Why did dating have to be so complex and weird? She hasn’t done anything wrong, yet her heart beats guilt through her arteries, a kick drum keeping rhythm. </p><p>Lexa: sorry... was climbing</p><p>Lexa: still up for coming over?</p><p>Clarke stared down at the messages. Part of her wanted to be petty and make the girl wait, but she knew she would regret that. Despite her frustrations, she wanted nothing more than having a nice night with Lexa. They had a way of calming each other despite being at odds, plus, Clarke needed a date for tomorrow night and she had a certain brunette in mind.</p><p>Clarke: omw</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Flames</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Short chapter but the conversation is important and I didn't want to add anything beyond it for this chapter.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“I want to yell,” Lexa grumbled. </p><p>At this point, it felt like they have spent hours speaking in circles. Imagine a merry-go-round where the figures were all your fears and insecurities, never ending rotating to the same maddening melody, masked with gold pretending to be new and shiny, something safe. If Clarke wasn’t expressing her frustrations with Lexa’s distance, Lexa was harping on Clarke’s mysteries. </p><p>“We’ve already tried that,” Clarke’s voice barely lifted. Lexa was tired too. </p><p>Still, she wanted clarification, “So… you never dated him?”</p><p>Clarke shook her head, “He is and has always been a friend.”</p><p>Lexa paced the living room, passing Clarke on the couch with each sweep. </p><p>“Then why hide him?”  She pauses in front of Clarke.</p><p>It didn’t make sense to Lexa. Clarke was so secretive about the guy. Even now in their conversation, she can feel that Clarke wasn’t speaking the whole truth. Did it matter? The question surprised Lexa. Maybe she didn’t want to know the information.</p><p>“I…” Clarke clears her throat and takes a sip of her tea, “He reminds me of a time that I don’t like to revisit.”</p><p>Lexa watches the shadows dance across the blue eyes, the rising and crashing of waves against the trodden beach. When a single tear drop escapes those waves, the tension in Lexa’s body relaxes. She sat next to Clarke, wrapping the girl in her arms, the scents of her shampoo painted a picture of a meadow with freshly bloomed flowers in her mind. </p><p>“Do you trust me?” Lexa whispers and when Clarke nods she adds, “Then talk to me.”</p><p> “It’s about my dad, Lex,” Clarke’s single tear is followed by many now. </p><p>Lexa knew very little about his death. She knows that it was the year before Clarke and Abby moved to town and that Clarke looked like him; that was it. She never pushed the conversation with Clarke; seeing that the mere mentioning of him still brought Clarke to her knees. This time she would push a little more. </p><p>“What happened, Clarke?”</p><p>She feels a sigh escape Clarke’s lungs. </p><p>“Our parents were close friends..”</p><p>“You and Murphy?” Lexa could assume but she didn’t want to chance any miscommunication.</p><p>“Yea. Which is why we know each other for like, forever,” She chuckles, “He got me into so much trouble. I wanted to be just like him, to be free like him. I had a lot of pressure from my mom to be perfect.”</p><p>“What about your dad?” Lexa noticed Clarke was avoiding him again.</p><p>She nods, running her tongue along her teeth, “He wanted me to pursue my passions but…he didn’t like upsetting my mom so he kind of let her run things.”</p><p>Lexa rubs Clarke’s knee.</p><p>Clarke takes a deep breath, “so I resented him for that and I uh, I did everything I could to embarrass them and be free. Murphy could suggest anything and I would be down. This included…” Clarke’s voice drops, her eyes focused on the wall before them. </p><p>“What did it include?” Lexa encourages. </p><p>“Drugs.” Clarke looks away from Lexa, “For about a year, I experimented with a few different things… Murhpy and I did and my dad tried to help.” She sucks in a breath, “He tried to get me help, to um, study art in college. I listened but only used his generosity to pay for my education. I felt like he owed me, ya know? He let mom suffocate me, so I thought the least he could do is make sure I studied what interested me.”</p><p>“How did your mom respond?”</p><p>The flame in Clarke’s eyes disappears, a cold chill overwhelming it, “She found out a few weeks into my third semester. They got into an argument and my dad went for a drive to cool down,” Clarke shakes her head, rubbing her palms against her jeans, “He wrecked and that was it. I never thanked him or told him how art was the best thing to happen to me.”</p><p>“Clarke,” Lexa pulls her into an embrace, “he knew. Anyone that watches you create knows the joy it brings to your life. He knew.”</p><p>She held the sobbing girl, riding out every tremor. </p><p>“I wasted so much time, Lex. After he died, I freed myself from everyone, including Murphy. I associated him with the mistakes I’ve made despite the fact I continued to live a life without strings. It doesn’t make sense but I felt tied to him, like an obligation to do the things he did.”</p><p>“So what has changed?” </p><p>“You,” Clarke smiles, “I met you and found a part of myself that I didn’t think existed anymore.”</p><p>Lexa smiled and her heart swelled and pumped pride throughout her veins. </p><p>“So what about you?” Clarke wipes her eyes until they are dry with the flame returning.<br/>
“What do you mean?”</p><p>Lexa didn’t want to follow up dead-dad with her own family issues. She suddenly felt self-conscious about it.  </p><p>“What were you doing having lunch with your dad?”</p><p>“Ah,” Lexa considered her response, “he wants me to make amends with my mom.”</p><p>Clarke blinks as her eyes widen, “the nerve!”</p><p>Lexa’s shoulders relax; they were on the same page. For a moment, she thought Clarke would utter something about making amends because time was precious, blah, blah. </p><p>“What are you going to do?”</p><p>“Not much I can do right now,” Lexa chews on the inside of her lip, “I can’t change the way Becca thinks of me and I can’t force Gustus to give me my job back. I’m in limbo, I guess.” She sighs.</p><p>“Well, what’s something you have always wanted to do?”</p><p>“Become the youngest CEO and run Trikru,” Lexa answers immediately.</p><p>Clarke pulls her lips in between her teeth, “I mean besides that.”</p><p>Lexa shrugs. There wasn’t anything besides that. She wasn’t an artistic or creative type; always had her lists and her lists for lists. She was goal oriented, having something to achieve, to best, were her greatest motivators. At first, it was competing with her siblings, then it became about competing against herself, and all of it would mean being her father’s equal. It’s funny how things end up. Now the thought of being compared to her father makes her sick to her stomach. He was a monster. Was she? </p><p>“I don’t know,” Lexa’s shoulders slouch. </p><p>“Maybe this is the time to figure that out?” Clarke smiles, crawling into Lexa’s lap, straddling her, and Lexa wraps her arms around the girl as inspiration begins to burn within.</p><p>“I think you’re right.” She growls before pressing her lips against Clarke’s.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Women and Beasts</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Playful mornings were her favorite mornings.</p><p>Clarke buried her face into Lexa’s neck, trying to stifle the giggles threatening to pour out of her as Lexa padded her fingertips across Clarke’s body; naked and proud. </p><p>“You’re so ticklish,” Lexa releases a few giggles in her process. </p><p>“And you’re a,” Clarke grabs Lexa’s wrist, pressing it against the sheets as she rolls to top her, “tease.” She coos. </p><p>Clarke’s heart jolted and her lungs filled with sunshine as she looked down at the girl below her; brown wavy strands of hair stretched out across the sheets and pillows, contrasted against the honey tones and accentuated curvature of Lexa’s body. She wanted to taste every part of her, to memorize that surface, knowing every texture, taste, and smell. She wanted to paint.</p><p>The girl below her puckered her lips and batted her eyes; Clarke was no match for her. </p><p>“So,” Clarke takes advantage of her position, “what would you like to do today?” </p><p>And just like that, a shadow crosses over Lexa’s eyes, like someone didn’t pay the electric bill in the forest and the sun was shut off for the day. Clarke was already regretting the question.</p><p>“I, uh, I know that isn’t a loaded question,” Lexa sits up in the bed, gently lying her head against the headboard, “it’s just I keep thinking about what I want and I keep coming back to,” she counts them out with her fingers, “Gustus, Becca, Bellamy, being ceo and all the responsibilities I put on myself to be the best and…” </p><p>“You still haven’t figured out what you actually want,” Clarke adds. </p><p>Lexa nods, “exactly.”</p><p>“Okay,” Clarke perks up, resting on her elbows to look at Lexa, “what is something you enjoy? Something you do that is not for goals or family obligations, just a little treat for you?”</p><p>Lexa leans her head forward, tilting it just a pinch, enough to let Clarke know that she is considering the question. Hollowness grew within Clarke’s stomach, covering everything like a shadow when you snuff out the flame on a candle; she didn’t like seeing how difficult it was for Lexa to follow and understand her own wants and desires. </p><p>“Women,” Lexa laughs. </p><p>Anyone else would have taken this as a joke. Clarke knew the girl too well to understand the truth in the statement. It was something the two of them shared, the pleasures of being with a person without any obligations, and that in those moments, you just give and take, reacting to your most basic desires. </p><p>“Risky business to turn that into a career,” Clarke teased. </p><p>“Right?” Lexa laughed, heavy and fatigued as if it were carrying the thoughts that robbed her sleep. </p><p>“Speaking of women,” Clarke chewed on the inside of her lip, “will you be my date tonight? My mom is insisting I come to dinner, she is making this vegan casserole… it’s a whole thing.”</p><p>“Yes, of course, what time? I have a therapy in the afternoon.”</p><p>“Not a problem,” Clarke crawls into Lexa’s lap, straddling her, tugging at the waves that cascaded around the woman’s shoulders, “It isn’t until seven pm.” </p><p>Clarke was ready to move onto to something more fun; like the woman beneath her.</p><p>She kissed those lips, pouting and begging for her to taste, until there wasn’t a distinction between where one girl began and the other ended.</p><p>*****************</p><p> Punctuality is a choice. </p><p>And this afternoon, Lexa chose something opposite. She wasn’t willing to risk waiting out in that waiting area with Bellamy, sitting there in a quiet, large room with loud, suffocating thoughts. She has gone to enough Dr. Kane sessions to learn that he isn’t always on time and she opted for making them wait on her for a change. </p><p>The choice wasn’t easy and certainly wasn’t natural, but she managed. She managed to be five whole minutes late, Ha, I’m in control here  she thought to herself as the corners of her mouth curled. </p><p>To their chagrin, she casually walked into the office, the cabin imposter, and took her usual seat on the sofa. She was pleased to see that Bellamy had stationed himself against the opposite arm of the couch, plenty of space between them, but not enough to compare to the void she felt towards him.</p><p>“Good afternoon, Lexa,” Dr. Kane smiled, with his freshly trimmed beard, and product greased hair, slicked back into a position that looked purposeful. </p><p>Lexa wondered what inspired his sudden interest in personal hygiene. That isn’t to say he was gross before now, just that he may have gotten into two or more disagreements with a hairbrush, but lately, he seemed like a new man, a portrait version of the confidante she spent the last several months observing.</p><p>“Hi, Lexa,” Bellamy added. </p><p>“Good afternoon, Dr. Kane,” Lexa smiled, nodding for him to begin their session.</p><p>Ignoring Bellamy was easier than she expected, like cutting into a stick of butter with a hot butter knife, smooth and satisfying. Maybe it was petty but Lexa made a promise to herself after Gustus removed her as CEO, a promise that she would start putting herself first, and that had to start somewhere. </p><p>“Lexa, since this was your request, would you like to start us off?”</p><p>The prickling began in her ears before traveling down her neck, spine, and surging out towards her finger tips and toe tips; she has been waiting for this all day, “Definitely.” </p><p>She verbally tore into him, a wolverine ripping through the pelt of a freshly caught rabbit, her words were direct, arrows piercing the ring within the bullseye. A few times Dr. Kane tried to intervene but she wasn’t having it. She held in all the grief, guilt, and anger for so long that the pressure was too immense, and when she relieved the cap, it could only go one way, spewing out of her until there was nothing more. </p><p>Bellamy took it. He sat there, never removing his eyes from hers and he breathed, pacing his breaths as if he were running a marathon. She can’t remember ever seeing him this calm. There was no tension in his shoulders, they were slightly slouched forward, and his hands rested neatly on top of knees. </p><p>“Say something, explain yourself,” She demanded, her voice shook with fatigue. </p><p>“I am sorry,” Bellamy begins, clearing his throat, “this all blew out of proportion. I’m sorry that you lost your job but Lex, I didn’t say anything.” </p><p>“You must have said something, otherwise why would Becca care or even know about the Clarke situation?” Lexa tasted iron in her mouth; she placed a hand on her lip, only now realizing that she has bitten her own lip at some point. </p><p>He dropped his head, marking the first time they weren’t holding eye contact. She knew then that he was afraid to admit something. She pressed. </p><p>“What did you say?”</p><p>“I confided in mom about Clarke,” He breathed in, less steady than his earlier breaths, “about how I felt and how I had intentions, then…” </p><p>“Then I got involved, right?” Lexa crossed her arms.</p><p>He pulled his lips between his teeth, furrowing his eyebrows, “yea but I didn’t say that. I just stopped talking about Clarke and mom kind of caught on and I uh,” he sighed, “I guess I’ve been moody and mom is responding to that.”</p><p>“You hear how ridiculous that is, yea?”</p><p>“Lexa,” Dr. Kane’s voice was a warning, “do you want to hear his explanations or not?”</p><p>Lexa turned to Dr. Kane, “Do you want to continue getting paid?” </p><p>“I think that is hardly constructive,” Dr. Kane’s voice remained neutral. </p><p>Lexa ignored him, returning her attention to Bellamy, “go ahead. Tell me how it isn’t twisted that mom favors you over us all. Or how you’ve used that to your advantage our whole lives.”</p><p>“Like you aren’t his favorite!” Bellamy raised his voice. She smirked, pleased that she struck a nerve.</p><p>“Don’t try to convince me or anyone else that being Gustus’ favorite is something worth being,” She spit, “I had little choice in the matter seeing as how my own mother decided to thrust her frustrations with him onto me.”</p><p>“Then why aren’t you doing this with her?!” He was standing now. She stood up to face him.</p><p> “Because I’ve never had a relationship with her, there is nothing to fix, but you,” she swallowed, the heat rising in her throat, threatening to cause her eyes to water, “You, Anya, and me, we’ve always been there for each other. I need you to be my big brother, not my adversary!” </p><p>He flinched. </p><p>“Grow up and recognize who is actually here for you, Bell. You’ve compromised everything for a girl that was never yours to begin with. You all want to compare me to our father but you,” she pointed at him, her index finger the tip of a blade, “sound more like him with this behavior.” </p><p>He sat back down, placing his face into his hands. The breeze from the window air conditioner reached Lexa, now that she was no longer fuming, small goosebumps spread across her arms, raising the hairs, like a prey noticing it’s predator’s movements,  and she no longer felt comfortable in this space.</p><p>“I’m going to leave you with that,” she manages on her way out the door, ignoring Dr. Kane’s protests, making a bee-line for somewhere safe; Clarke.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Fairy Tales</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I apologize for the delay! I appreciate you all and your patience.</p><p>For FUN: first one to catch the Little Mermaid nod can give me a prompt to add into the next chapter (if you want).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You look delicious,” Clarke’s voice, dripping with sin, coated Lexa’s mental fortitude, sending shivers down her spine. The girl traced her index finger along the lining of Lexa’s teal sport coat. </p><p>Lexa was wearing one of her favorite outfits; teal sport coat, simple, black crew neck tee underneath, and teal pants to match the jacket. Her pants were cuffed, barely resting atop her leather brown oxfords. She accentuated her neck with a black Mejuri diamond clinging to a golden chain, the length of it allowing the diamond to sit comfortably where her breasts meet; it was an attention grabber. </p><p>“We should probably ring the doorbell,” Lexa whispers, reaching out her hand to gently grip the girl’s chin, pulling her face closer until their lips are centimeters apart. Lavender and vanilla filled her senses, she could almost taste it, and if she had her way, she would savor it soon. </p><p>Whimpers fall from Clarke’s lips, crashing and landing on the concrete surface below their feet, spelling out her disappointment; Lexa put a hold on their make-out session. She loved it when Clarke was all over her like this, but the last thing she wanted was for Abby to open the door on them.</p><p>After her earlier session, she did need a confidence booster, some fabric magic; any help in making her sociable tonight. Her nerves were trying to settle after her rant on Bellamy, like the ripples in a pond after you toss in a stone, and to top it all off, Clarke’s mother has a frequency all of her own. </p><p>The woman makes Lexa nervous. </p><p>The sharp clink of the door handle unclasps, metal grinding against metal, and the door swings open. Clarke and Lexa release their embrace. </p><p>“Come in girls,” Abby huffs, “it’s rude to stand in doorways.”</p><p>Already off to a great start, Lexa thought. The house was cold, an artic pocket in a dessert, and Lexa pleaded with her body to acclimate. Standing next to her, Clarke looks unbothered by the temperature drop; must be nice, she thought.  </p><p>“Clarke, help me set the table,” Abby directs. </p><p>Lexa notices four plates sitting on the counter, patiently waiting to serve, but only counts three people in the room. She looks around to make sure she didn’t overlook another guest. Clarke warned that she suspected her mom was dating someone and would possibly introduce them tonight, but he (or she) was not here. </p><p>The ding of an email notification grabs Lexa’s attention. Despite Gustus’ order, Lexa still received company email, and most times, it was nothing of interest, importance, or anything she could assist with. However, the subject nagged at her, “Polis update.” Polis was a personal project she started and was working on it before Gustus took back over. How could there be an update if she weren’t there? Only a handful of people, less than five, even knew it existed. </p><p>Her phone buzzes when a text comes through.</p><p>Costia: I need to talk to you... Call me when you can.</p><p>The doorbell rings. </p><p>“That must be Marcus!” Abby calls out, shuffling past Lexa to reach the front door. </p><p>Marcus. Surely this was only a huge coincidence. There were plenty of men named Marcus, correct?</p><p>When he stepped through the threshold, Lexa’s world folded in on itself, a vacuum seal, sucking the air out of her lungs and the room started to tilt. She would recognize that beard anywhere; it was him.</p><p>Dr. Marcus Kane.</p><p>********************</p><p>Just as she suspected; her mother was dating someone. </p><p>Clarke wasn’t a stranger to meeting men her mother dated, it was as common as rose bouquets on Valentine’s Day, but this one was a bit more unkempt than she was used to seeing. He wore clothes like they were an after-thought, his hair was shiny from too much product, which probably meant the man wasn’t accustomed to styling it, and he walked like his shoes were a half size too small. </p><p>She had to admit, it was amusing. </p><p>But with the criticism, she also noticed the brightness in his eyes. He looked kind and honest, with his brown eyes speckled with ember sparks, like someone you could confide in and not worry about judgement.  There was a gentleness to him, unlike the rigid and structured men her mother paraded before. Maybe he would be different.</p><p>“Excuse me,” Lexa muttered on her way to the bathroom, nearly shoulder-checking Clarke on the way. </p><p>What got into her, Clarke wondered. She hoped the almond butter snack they shared earlier didn’t upset Lexa’s belly.  She made a mental note to check in on her if she wasn’t back in a few minutes. </p><p>Clarke was sure her mother had plenty of Pepto stashed around the house. The pink liquid acted as the ultimate “cure all” in their household. Her father always called it Flamingo milkshakes, saying it came from milking the long-legged birds, because how else does it get that pink color.  She didn’t want to admit how long it took her to realize he wasn’t serious. </p><p>Pink; she hasn’t painted anything with that shade in a while, long enough that she cannot remember opening the jar of pink oils sitting in her studio, scattered about like cobwebs. Some of her favorite things were pink; namely, Lexa’s lips. Yes, Clarke was already seeing her next project, her fingertips started to tingle, like that feeling you get when reaching out to touch the live wire on a cow pasture’s electric fence. </p><p>When Lexa returned from the restroom, the four of them took their places at the table. Clarke didn’t like how Lexa’s eyes never lifted from her plate. The woman barely acknowledged Marcus, and come to think of it, he was acting strangely, too. Well, Clarke assumed as much since she didn’t know the guy; for all she knew he always acted this way. But…</p><p>Something was off. </p><p>Clarke leans over to whisper in Lexa’s ear, “are you ok?”</p><p>“Mhmm,” Lexa hums, returning her gaze to the casserole growing cold in front of her. </p><p>“Is it your stomach?” Clarke presses, “because it’s nothing to be embar—r”</p><p>“No, let it go,” Lexa hisses, interrupting Clarke. </p><p>Clarke’s stomach drops as her heart jumps into her throat. She takes a sip of her ice water to try to cool the heat currently reddening her cheeks; she didn’t like Lexa’s tone. </p><p>“You’re awfully quiet,” Abby teases Marcus, elbowing him. </p><p>“oh, uh,” he flinches, losing control of his fork. It falls, clattering against the porcelain plate, “my apologies.”</p><p>This guy was something else.</p><p>“Excuse me,” Lexa mutters before ripping out of her seat to go to the restroom again. The fabric from her jacket grazed her phone that was sitting on the table, screen up, enough to wake it revealing a message alert for Clarke to see. </p><p>She wasn’t trying to snoop. She couldn’t help that her eyes were drawn to the flash of light, like a moth to a flame, and all she could see was Costia’s name across the screen. </p><p>Her heart sank this time and her belly twisted. Was this why Lexa was acting so strangely at dinner? </p><p>Clarke hated this. Where was the trust? Why does she have to immediately assume that Lexa has betrayed her? The heart likes to play its games, a living Rumpelstiltskin promising wonders but with a catch, and Clarke’s wanted to make her suffer, but she wasn’t willing to be anyone’s fool. She needed to put some distance between herself and Lexa, otherwise she would say something real dumb right now.</p><p>Clarke stood up from the table, grabbing her things and setting her keys on the table, “tell Lexa to drive my truck, I'm calling a Lyft.”</p><p>And she left.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Mind-reader</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Talking to reflections doesn’t produce a lot of answers.</p><p>No matter the working definition of a tragedy; an event causing suffering or a play dealing with the downfall of the protagonist, Lexa knew her life qualified for both. She couldn’t think of any logical reasoning to explain how all these life events could occur within a matter of weeks from each other. And come on, the odds that her girlfriend’s mother was dating Dr. Kane; it’s a curse, she thought. </p><p>She needed to slow down, breathe, and call her sister. </p><p>Lexa stuck her hands into her pants pockets, following the satin lining down to her mid-thigh, returning with balled lint. She looked around, searching the counter tops, exhaling through her nostrils when the realization hits her, “you left it on the table,” she scolds herself. </p><p>She had to face them again. </p><p>She approached the kitchen table, glancing at the seated persons long enough to realize Clarke was missing, “Where is Clarke?”</p><p>“Excellent question,” Abby stands up, placing both hands on her hips. Lexa was sure if she squinted hard enough, she would be able to physically see steam bursting from the woman’s ears. </p><p>Lexa felt the muscles in her back tighten, as if in the embrace of a boa, tighter and tighter until her breathing is labored. A lot of unknowns right now, but what she did know was Abby is pissed and Clarke is missing. </p><p>“Clarke called a cab,” Marcus offers, his voice was gentle, stark opposite to Abby’s sharp pitch.</p><p>“Why would she do that?” Lexa snaps out of her nerves, now concerned with Clarke and her wellbeing. What was so bad that the girl had to disappear like that?</p><p>“Wish I knew,” Abby threw her hands up, muttering something unintelligible, as she vanished into the living room. </p><p>Lexa looked at Marcus, hoping he could answer the question but he only offered a shrug, shaking his head. </p><p>“Oh, so now you have nothing to say,” Lexa retorts, the sound of her voice making his eyebrows furrow. She was sure he would bring this up in therapy later. What was she saying? There was no way she would or could go back there. </p><p>Clarke.</p><p>She spotted Clarke’s truck keys on the table next to her phone, with a screen exposing Costia’s name. Lexa now had an idea what happened. She rushed to the table, palming the items, and sprinted to the front door. Her heart was beating so quickly her footsteps couldn’t keep up. </p><p>Clarke couldn’t be too far ahead, Lexa thought; she was only in the bathroom for a short moment. </p><p>Sure enough, she opened the door finding the blonde pacing the driveway, staring at her phone. The tension in Lexa’s back began to relax; at least Clarke was still here. </p><p>“Cancel the Lyft, Clarke!” Lexa calls out to her as she approaches. </p><p>Clarke looks at her, shaking her head before turning her back to Lexa to walk in the opposite direction, into yard. </p><p>“It’s not what you think,” Lexa starts to explain, following the girl.</p><p>“Oh, so you read minds now?” </p><p>At least Clarke was speaking to her. </p><p>“Yea, it’s this new hobby I picked up since losing my job,” Lexa purses her lips, waiting for Clarke to look at her. She does. Lexa enjoyed watching the blonde chew on her lips to stop the grin threatening to spread across her face. </p><p>“Don’t get cute,” Clarke warns; her voice quiet now since Lexa was standing in front of her. </p><p>They’re standing underneath a Maple tree, its color changing leaves offered the perfect shade from the evening sun. The breeze was gentle, playful with the leaves holding onto the branches, and helped to cool their skin. Lexa enjoyed watching the loose, blonde tendrils bounce as the frustrated girl tried to push them from her face. Under different circumstances, Lexa would have enjoyed this scenery much more. </p><p>“Why was Costia’s name on your phone?” Clarke sighs, popping her knuckles, the sound matching the crunch of a tootsie pop. </p><p>Lexa wasn’t entirely certain but had a hunch, “I’m not sure why she reached out.”  She didn’t want to speculate, only to end up being wrong and have Clarke reading into it. </p><p>“So you’re not talking to her?” </p><p>“Not in the way you fear,” Lexa tucks a blonde hair behind Clarke’s ear. </p><p>“I hate this feeling,” Clarke whispers and she rests her forehead against Lexa’s chest. </p><p>“We have to get better at communicating,” Lexa rolls her eyes, realizing she sounds like Dr. Kane, but continues anyway, “I need you to stop running away every time you lose trust in me.”</p><p>“I agree but Lex, you were acting so strangely in there,” Clarke nods towards her mother’s house. Lexa looks in the direction in time to see Abby moving away from the window to hide behind the curtain. </p><p>“Marcus is my therapist,” Lexa decides to rip that band aid off. </p><p>Clarke’s mouth goes into the shape of the letter o and her hands shoot up to cover it, layered over top of one another, and she lets out a grunt, “oh my god.”</p><p>“Yea,” Lexa starts to laugh; the whole thing seemed comical now. </p><p>“So, if I gotta stop running, you…” Clarke playfully pokes Lexa’s chest, “have to stop withholding so much information!”</p><p>“I’ll try.” Lexa knows not to promise anything, but at least, she could do her best.</p><p>“Time to go,” Clarke interlocks her fingers with Lexa’s and they walk to the truck just as a black civic pulls up behind it.</p><p>“Fuck.”</p><p>Lexa raises her eyebrows, realizing Clarke forgot to cancel the Lyft, “good luck,” she teases. </p><p>***********************</p><p>“How was the dinner?” Raven crawled into Clarke’s bed, situating herself, the blankets, pillows, and clothes around her until she had a mound of coziness created. </p><p>Clarke ignored her as she tried to balance on one foot, peeling her skinny jeans from the other leg. She was a bit more wobbly than she liked; needing more yoga practice, she thought.</p><p>“Were you the one that suggested Marcus Kane as the family therapist?” Clarke slings the jeans onto the hamper. </p><p>“uh huh, why?” Raven rests on her elbows, looking up at Clarke, head tilted to the side.</p><p>“He is dating my mom,” Clarke jumps into a pair of sweatpants, the comfort brought goosebumps to her skin and she shivered with delight. </p><p>“Uh oh,” Raven sits up. </p><p>Clarke filled her in, relaying as many of the details she could remember, right down to the fidgeting Lexa. Raven’s eyes widened at the suspense and giggled at descriptions of Lexa being anything other than chill. Clarke didn’t realize how good of a story this was until she told it through different lenses; she even mentioned the Costia stuff.</p><p>“Do you believe her?” Raven asked. </p><p>Clarke’s throat tightens. It was a fair question, but it wasn’t something she was ready to confront.</p><p>“I hope so,” she decides. </p><p>Clarke didn’t enjoy feeling suspicious of Lexa. The energy had a way of sucking the life from her and her response is always run. She promised Lexa she would work on it but where to begin? Clarke didn’t have the faintest clue how to begin unpacking those tendencies. Maybe she should take a chapter from Lexa’s book and go to therapy, too. </p><p>Her phone buzzes. </p><p>Murphy: Having some people over tonight… you should be one of them :p</p><p>Or she could do her own kind of therapy and join Murphy’s house party. She could use a brief escape. </p><p>Clarke: hell yea</p>
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<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Muse</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The words, “You're dead,” flash across the television screen. </p><p>Lexa tosses the gaming controller onto the sofa cushion next to her. She did her best to mask her disappointment; the more Lexa wanted to win, the louder Anya would gloat about dominating. So, she sat there quietly, blending in with the furniture until her sister’s victory dance ended. </p><p>“Another round?” Anya asks. </p><p>“Yea but I’m changing my character’s class,” Lexa decided. Accepting the challenge was similar to that feeling before diving off the deep end; you’re sure it’s going to hurt but you can’t help but want the experience.</p><p>While Anya made her trip to the kitchen for snacks, Lexa took a moment to check her phone. Clarke was going to Murphy’s tonight and Lexa wanted to keep an eye on her messages in case Clarke needed an out. She knew the blonde was still on the fence about rekindling a friendship with her childhood pal. </p><p>She had a missed call from Costia.</p><p>Lexa didn’t realize her phone was on silent. She pressed the buttons until the volume indicator reached seventy-five percent; she will hear all the notifications now. She glanced towards the direction of the kitchen, she couldn’t see Anya but the opening and slamming of cupboard doors indicated that she was still on the prowl for snacks; probably searching for the twizzlers, no doubt. </p><p>Figuring she had enough time, Lexa hit the call back option on her phone. </p><p>“Dude,” Costia nearly shouts, “you’re impossible to get ahold of these days.”</p><p>“What’s going on?” Lexa wanted to cut to the chase, needing to know if her suspicions were true.</p><p>“Did you hear about Polis?” Costia’s voice returned to its natural octave.</p><p>She knew it.</p><p>“I got an email about an update, but the details were vague,” Lexa shared. </p><p>“Your dad is shutting it down.”</p><p>The line was quiet, neither woman willing to admit the implications, and Lexa’s mind reeled. She had so many questions and was sure Costia wouldn’t be able to answer any of them.</p><p>“When did this happen?” Surely, Costia can answer that, Lexa thought. </p><p>“Yesterday’s update meeting,” Costia sighed, “he didn’t say why or even gave us a chance to change his mind. I’ve never seen him act this way.”</p><p>Lexa figured he would make executive decisions during this interim, but she never expected he would shut down her projects. Polis was hers. If successful, it would redefine renewable energy and access to it. To her, this aligned with the values and principles Trikru was founded on. So why would Gustus end it?</p><p>“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Lexa tried to reassure Costia.</p><p>Costia’s family invested in Trikru when Gustus first pitched the business. Their roles as valued consultants were carried through Costia due to her interests in philanthropy and law. As a business duo, the two were formidable, and Lexa knew they would bring Trikru forward and take it further than her father could have imagined. She hoped it would make Gustus proud. </p><p>Costia and Lexa became aware of the startup company, Polis, run by a group of engineers whom have dedicated their lives to clean energy, and decided that this was the direction Trikru needed to work towards. If the company wanted to stay ahead in the renewable and clean energy world, then it would have to be more innovative and try new things. </p><p>“Okay,” Costia sucks in a deep breath, “Something needs to be done, Lexa. If Trikru doesn’t move on this, someone else will.”</p><p>“I know,” Lexa ends the phone call. She was already dreading the impending conversations with her father; her mother too, because she was sure the woman had a part in this. </p><p>“Twizzler?” Anya dangles the red rope in front of Lexa. </p><p>“Actually, I think I will,” Lexa snatches it and tears off a bite, chomping as if each crush would break down the barriers between her and her family. She chewed, the juices of it spread across her tongue; yea, this was definitely plastic.</p><p>***************************</p><p>“Murphy, your house is so…” Clarke looked around the rooms, staring up at the ceiling and cabinets “clean.” </p><p>He threw his head back, a laugh jolted out of him and Clarke’s body started to spasm from a flurry of giggles, too. The buzz was settled in. It didn’t take long, a couple of tequila shots and a, now, half empty glass of sangria, and her eyes were glazed. </p><p>When the other guests started bringing out harder substances, Murphy decided Clarke needed a tour of the place. She appreciated the excuse to distance herself from them. His place was modest but the decorum and appliances suggested her friend was doing quite well for himself these days. </p><p>“This is what I’ve been working on lately,” he opened a door that led out to the garage. </p><p>Instead of a vehicle parked inside, there stood a sixty-three inch metal contraption with sharp angles and rounded curves. It reminded her of the shadows casted by the wire framing of a car; one ripped to shreds from flipping down the highway. Something about its darkness drew her in, like ocean tides under a full moon, and it started to fill every space in her mind.</p><p>She could see that he was starting to add colors to it and was thrilled to see shades of pink on the palette. </p><p>It was stirring inspiration in her.</p><p>Like Clarke, Murphy devoted himself to the arts, creating and fabricating sculptures to quiet the demons in his mind, or banshees as he would call them. They used to collaborate on art pieces, two novices with differencing directions and little communication skills, and as a result, the projects would end up crashing and burning. She wondered if this would still be true today. If anyone could match her ability to lock their self away in a room for hours on end just to get a piece finished, she figured Murphy would be that person. </p><p>“Do you always work alone?” She hears herself asking. </p><p>“Don’t we all?” He laughs but humor was absent from his voice. </p><p>“I like this piece,” she ran her hand along its surface, the iron rusted sections felt coarse to her fingertips but she enjoyed the sensation. </p><p>“I’ll sell it to you,” he chirps up.</p><p>“No,” she bites her lip, “I want to paint some pieces to compliment it. That is if you’re up for a collab…”</p><p>He blinked, his mouth was neutral and Clarke couldn’t tell if he was honored or offended. Blame it on the alcohol but either way, she braced herself for a dramatic reaction.</p><p>He didn’t disappoint. </p><p>Murphy started dancing around, grabbing her wrists to lift her arms into the air as he twirled and bounced around her. It was impossible to stand in place so she joined him, careful to not get too dizzy and tumble into something dangerous; she eyeballed the circular saw and welding equipment.</p><p>“Yes!” He yells, “Yes of course.”</p><p>Her fingertips started to tingle as her nerves danced with anticipation. </p><p>“Awesome! Do you have any art supplies?” She blurts out. She could bring her stuff from home but she wanted to start on this thing now. She couldn’t help herself. </p><p>“I do, one sec,” He darts into the house, leaving her standing in the garage. She bends down rummaging through the spray cans of paint he has chosen. She enjoyed the shades and was already envisioning an entire collection based on the colors and the shapes of the sculpture. </p><p>Murphy returned with a few blank canvases, one with some black specks on it, but she knew she could work with that. He had some paint dried paintbrushes and box of random oils and acrylic. She loved the idea of creating with limited supplies, reminding her of college days, where ramen was a fancy meal, and she was limited to the art supplies provided at the school. It drew out the problem solving side of her and those pieces, in her mind, were always her best. </p><p>“When do you wanna start?” he asks, sitting the supplies onto the concrete floors.</p><p>Clarke kicked off her shoes and peeled off her socks, “now.”</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Beam Cannon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She couldn’t sit in this vehicle forever. </p><p>Lexa peered up at the towering brick mansion. She would have sworn the place had grown in size, a goblin full of victims in its belly, and she was destined to be next. Her parents’ house never felt welcoming. </p><p>“If you need,” Anya rotates her hands, grabbing at air, “I might be able to work up a special beam cannon to blast on them,” she offers. </p><p>“Don’t hurt yourself,” Lexa giggles. If only life were more like her sister’s video games, then Anya would certainly be ruling the world by this point.</p><p>Bringing Anya along was a good idea. </p><p>With Bellamy’s suv parked next to them, Lexa was grateful to have her sister for backup. She couldn’t imagine a better person to go into battle with, even though it felt like she was carrying the weight of the mansion on her chest. She centered her breathing, imaging herself drawing a box in the sand; breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold. She often used this technique to push past her fears when rock climbing; it isn’t always easy to make that leap of faith when you’re tethered to a rock on a cliff.</p><p> “You ready?” Anya places her hand over Lexa’s, briefly, but long enough to reassure them both; they had each other.</p><p>They were greeted by the house keeper, which meant Becca’s mood was certainly south of good. It didn’t matter, Lexa had no intention of walking around the woman’s mood swings; she was willing to bulldoze past any walls to get where she needed. She noticed the house felt humid, warm, despite the autumn’s breeze outside. </p><p>“It’s hot as balls in here,” Anya spits out. </p><p>Come to think of it, Lexa did notice that the house keeper had beads of sweat clinging to his forehead. Normally, Becca maintained the house’s temperature at a crisp seventy degrees, and this room, at least, was much warmer than that; odd. The possibility of the mansion being in disarray started to spark some confidence in Lexa; she wasn’t the only one with rattled nerves. </p><p>As if on cue Becca entered the room, arms up, hair stuck to her neck and forehead between her furrowed brows. Bellamy was on her heels, his hair drenched in its own sweat, and a grin stretched across his face. </p><p>“Whatever it is,” Becca waved her arms, “now is not the time.”</p><p>“What happened?” Anya asked the obvious question. </p><p>Becca pursed her lips, shook her head, and darted past them to disappear into another room. </p><p>“Still figuring it out,” Bellamy answered, biting his lip to keep from laughing as he followed her. </p><p>Lexa was curious. Her brother rarely took pleasure in their mother’s discomfort; that was more her and Anya’s thing.  But that would have to wait; Lexa could see that Gustus’ office light was on. He was in there and she had a bone to pick. </p><p>“Let’s talk,” she demands. </p><p>Gustus jumped in his seat, nearly dropping his reading glasses onto the floor. She didn’t bother knocking before entering and her voice was slightly elevated when she addressed him. Startling him would be the icing on the cake for her.</p><p>“Lexa,” he laughs, “dear god you frightened me.”</p><p>She walked over to him, towering over her father as he continued to sit in his chair, “What the hell are you trying to do with Trikru?”</p><p>“You mean my company,” he leans back in the chair, twirling a pen between his fingers, “Whatever I think is best.”</p><p>She knows he is trying to intimidate her; two can play that game. </p><p>Lexa placed her hand against the back of his seat, pressing it back just before extending its balance, so that she could be face to face with him, “You’re sabotaging my projects on purpose. Which tells me you’re Becca’s puppet, and have no intentions of letting me return.”</p><p>“You got part of it, my child,” he sits forward, the stubble on his face grazed her jaw as he whispers into her ear, “You’ll not be returning as ceo of Trikru.”</p><p>“Turns out I missed the driver seat,” he continues, “and I think I turned you lose too early, judging by that pathetic Polis deal. That is a money pit if I’ve ever seen one. Don’t worry, my dear, you can return as my second.”</p><p>She released the chair and stood up straight, creating distance between them. </p><p>“Unbelievable,” she hisses. </p><p>She would throw herself into a lion’s mouth before agreeing to work with him again. </p><p>“You better accept your father’s generosity,” Becca says from behind Lexa. </p><p>Lexa turns to face her. Anya and Bellamy cram into the office with them. She found it ironic; of all the square footage in this place, they all cram into an office to have a long overdue conversation. </p><p>“Or what,” Lexa asks. </p><p>“Without any contributions to the family business then we would have to cut you off,” Becca coos. </p><p>“That’s stupid,” Anya butts in, standing between Becca and Lexa, “Bell and I don’t contribute but we still get a stipend!”</p><p>“You two don’t steal from each other,” Becca rubbed Anya’s face but the hand was smacked away. </p><p>“She didn’t steal Clarke,” Bellamy interjected. </p><p>They all went back and forth like this for several minutes that felt like hours. Despite Bellamy’s efforts, Becca refused to stop blaming Lexa for the Clarke situation. She refused to see it from another perspective, latched onto the narrative that her sweet boy was wronged by his bratty younger sister, the embodiment of her father. </p><p>“Enough,” Gustus shouted. </p><p>Lexa wondered when he would intervene or run away; conflict was not his forte. He found it easier to throw money on it and disappear for a little while. </p><p>“Leave Clarke and we can all move forward,” Becca offers. </p><p>Anya and Lexa both let out a laugh; it was more of a response to a punch in the gut. Was Becca serious? Sadly, she was and Lexa wasn’t entirely surprised. Her childhood taught her that this woman was ruthless and vengeful, even if it came to her own flesh. </p><p>“Are you asking me to choose?” Lexa asks for clarification. She already knew the answer but needed Becca to say it.</p><p>“Leave her and we can reinstate you as ceo, but if you don’t,” Becca clicks her tongue, “then you’re cut off for good.”</p><p>“Deal,” Lexa grabs Becca’s hand, shakes it, staring her in the eyes, “I choose Clarke.”</p><p>Briefly, like a falling star, Lexa saw pain flash across Becca’s face. It must not have occurred to the woman that Lexa would choose the person she loved over money. Becca’s own experience would suggest you had to sacrifice love and happiness for wealth and status, and Lexa supposed the woman thought her children deserved the same; not Lexa, not anymore.</p><p>For the first time, since being let go as ceo, Lexa finally started to see this as a blessing. The pressure on her chest lifted the moment she made her decision, she inhaled, and the air was sweet. Within the snap of a finger, Lexa was able to shed some of the guilt and responsibilities she carried beholden to her parents. It wasn’t as scary she expected and instead, she was filled with inspiration and motivation that came from within.</p><p>The reason she felt empty all these years was because she didn’t live for herself, she lived for them, but that was going to change. </p><p>Anya followed Lexa out to the vehicle, patting her on the back, praising her for being so brave. Bellamy came out to meet them before Lexa put the Jeep in drive. He was beaming and Lexa’s heart warmed at the sight. </p><p>“I’m proud of you,” he smiled, “I want you to know I’m on your side. I know you’re pissed at me and I deserve it but when you’re ready, I’m ready.”</p><p>She didn’t expect him to come to her defense, though a little late, but nice nonetheless. Maybe he was working on things, she thought. It would be nice if he could grow up and be the brother she deserves. </p><p>“Thanks, Bell,” Lexa smiled in return, “give me a little more time, keep working on you, and I promise, I’ll come around.”</p><p>“So what’s next?” Anya asked, rubbing her palms against her jeans, trying to expel her anxious energy. </p><p>Lexa didn’t bother answering; she picked up her phone, dialing the key to her next adventure, “Hello, Costia…” Anya jerks her head towards Lexa, eyes wide, “…I have a plan.”</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Pinkie Promise</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Blood dripped from her fingertips.</p><p>Clarke didn’t mind, continuing to stare at dash strokes of pinks, browns, and reds on the canvas. It wouldn’t surprise her to learn that some of the blood transferred onto the painting, adding more of her than she intended to. Murphy’s sculpture had ridges and points that she learned would break the skin if you ran your hand over it, but her stomach twisted and her head felt light looking at it, the danger drawing her in, closer; it was familiar. </p><p>“Here,” Murphy shoves a granola bar into her hand, “you need to eat.”</p><p>She accepts it, opening the package to shove a piece into her mouth, not bothering with reading the package. Honey oat; she recognized the sweetness, grinning as she chewed, thankful for some sustenance. She returned her gaze to the paintings, pleased with how the strokes lined up when all placed together. The image it created was the silhouette of the only man she ever loved; her father. </p><p>“What time is it?” She asked, rubbing her forearm against her forehead, pushing the dirt and sweat deeper into her pores. </p><p>“Nearly 5 a.m.,” Murphy handed her a bottle of water. </p><p>She focused on the pink strokes, never before now realizing that the color always made her think of her dad. He always exuded an inviting, approachable energy that comforted her. He was the first person she told she was bisexual; the first to know of her first heartache. She could see him in the pink and purple skies blanketing the setting sun; in the pink of a puppy’s nose when it is giving you wet kisses. </p><p>She smiled. </p><p>“Not as late as I thought,” she twisted the cap, throwing her head back to guzzle the water, thankful for its cool temperatures against her throat. </p><p>“Of the following day,” Murphy emphasizes, nodding so that Clarke understands; they’ve been working on this for over forty-eight hours. </p><p>Clarke choked on the water, “oh my god.”</p><p>She rushed to her phone, pulling it out from underneath a pile of brushes, and her heart dropped when it wouldn’t turn on. She could imagine how upset Lexa and Raven will be with her once she resurfaces. She promised herself she wouldn’t do this; she intended to at least check in every few hours or so. </p><p>“Can I use your charger?” She asked, a formality since the charger was already in hand as she connected her phone. </p><p>Two loud knocks barreled down the hallway, reaching the garage make-shift studio, startling both Murphy and Clarke. They heard the front door unlatch, swinging open to smack against the wall as someone started shouting, “I swear to god Murphy if you murdered her I’ll skin you alive.”</p><p>It was Raven. Clarke knew that voice better than her own, and if she thought about it, she would say the inner voice in her own mind was Raven’s. </p><p>“Oh thank heavens!” Raven cried out, pulling Clarke into a tight embrace, “you smell gross.” She whispered into Clarke’s ear. </p><p>Clarke poured out the apologies; they flowed from her mouth as if it were a faucet, whose only purpose was to reveal her remorse. She leaned back to look at Raven, noting the worry lines and fresh tears in the corners of her eyes. Clarke’s chest tightened and her stomach became a pit of despair. She should have communicated better instead of letting her loved ones needlessly worry. </p><p>She could only imagine how Lexa was feeling right now, “Can I use your phone?”</p><p>Clarke surprised herself for remembering Lexa’s number by heart. She dialed the numbers as if the harder she pressed the quicker the screen would register the commands; that got her some side eyeing from Raven, whom was not pleased with the mishandling of her phone.</p><p>“Lexa,” saying her name nearly choked Clarke.</p><p>Lexa skipped the hello and went straight for the, “Are you okay?”</p><p>Clarke winced when she heard the tremble in Lexa’s voice, “yes, I’m so sorry. Can I come over?” </p><p>After receiving permission to head over, Clarke wasted no time leaving behind her things, only grabbing her phone and keys. Her mind was a hive, buzzing full of all the things she expected Lexa to say to her. She couldn’t blame Lexa for being angry. She was angry with herself. </p><p>Clarke jumped out of the vehicle, barely giving herself enough time to put the truck in park, and jogged up to Lexa’s door. Her face was red, back sweating despite the cool air. She wiped her palms on her paint splattered jeans. Lexa opened the door, pulling Clarke inside before she could ring the doorbell. </p><p>“I am so sorry,” Clarke nearly cried, but Lexa silenced her with a kiss. </p><p>Clarke twisted her fingers into the waves of brown with golden highlights, inhaling the familiar sandalwood while pulling Lexa as close as possible. Their lips moved against each other, soft and strong; Clarke could taste the yearning. She lifted her arms when Lexa tugged on her shirt, within a breath their lips separated until her shirt was overhead, on the floor. She jumped into the brunette’s arms, and her back was pressed against the door with Lexa between her thighs. She gasped, arching her back when Lexa nipped at her neck, dragging her tongue slowly against the pulsating veins.</p><p> She squeezed her thighs when Lexa moved to walk towards the bedroom, only releasing when her back hit the sheets. Her heartrate padded when Lexa pressed her body against her, moving and rolling her hips to encourage the girl to keep touching, kissing, and grinding. </p><p>Her hand travelled to unbutton the brunette’s jeans. She whined when Lexa gripped her wrist, pressing it overhead, against the sheets. Lexa rose up on her elbows and Clarke arched, trying to reclaim their proximity, but her efforts were thwarted when blue met green. The humming of the air condition unit disappeared and all she could hear were the breaths between them, and the longer she listened, the more it sounded like waves crashing into the sand. She willingly lost herself in the forest behind Lexa’s eyes, praying that no one would find her there, so it could last forever. </p><p>“Please,” she begged, needing Lexa to release the pressure building inside her. </p><p> They spent the night entangled with each other and the tired sheets clinging to Lexa’s bed, neither one willing to succumb to the sleep growing in the yawns that was weighing down their eye-lids. </p><p>“I thought something horrible happened to you,” Lexa whispered.  </p><p>“I should have texted,” Clarke nuzzled closer, “I wish I could say this isn’t normal, but I tend to get hyper focused on new projects."</p><p>“Promise me you won’t disappear again,” Lexa stuck out her pinkie. </p><p>Clarke gripped it with her own pinkie finger, “I promise pinkies and all.”</p><p>She returned to resting her head on Lexa’s chest, being lulled into a sleep by the rhythmic rise and fall until Lexa’s breath stopped. Clarke looked up at her, brows furrowed. </p><p>“A lot has happened,” Lexa’s cleared her throat; voice was neutral, as if she were walking on egg shells. </p><p>Clarke inhaled, holding her breath, bracing herself for whatever type of news Lexa had. Her back tightened when Lexa described the interaction at her parents’ house and the heat rose to her cheeks, reddening them in preparation for war when she thought about the way they spoke to Lexa. She was furious. She should have been there to support Lexa. </p><p>Pride swelled in her chest when Lexa got to the part where she stood up to them, choosing Clarke over the money. </p><p>“You’re amazing,” Clarke whispered against Lexa’s lips before pressing her own against them. Lexa kissed her back briefly but pulled back.</p><p>“One more thing,” Lexa smiled. </p><p>Clarke’s eyebrow arched and she hoped it was good news. </p><p>“I’m starting my own company,” Lexa smiled, widening her eyes as if she couldn’t believe the words herself.</p><p>Clarke rose up, sitting on her knees, facing Lexa so that she could grab the girl’s hands, “Lexa, this is incredible! I am so proud of you. Tell me all about it!”</p><p>“Well, first…” Lexa swallowed, slowing her cadence to say the words carefully, “Costia will be my business partner.”</p><p>Clarke clenched her jaw and the room felt smaller, nearly suffocating her. Was Lexa serious?</p>
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<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The early bird...is a serial killer?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“That makes me feel vulnerable.”</p><p>Lexa heard the words leave Clarke’s mouth, rolling from the woman’s lips like the hooves of a stampede, rhythmic and pounding. She could feel the tips of her ears begin to burn as a prickling sensation raced down her neck, turning into tension between her shoulder blades. </p><p>She considered that working with Costia as a business partner would upset Clarke, but she hoped the revelation of choosing her family over the girl would settle it; guess not. The tension radiated throughout her entire body as she stood there, like a tree fighting the push to sway under the storm’s winds, waiting for the blonde to turn and run again. </p><p>Clarke stood equally as still, only moving her hands to pop each of her knuckles individually; a hypnotizing sound under the silence in the room.</p><p>“What do you need from me?” Lexa decided to ask, not wanting to invalidate Clarke’s concerns. She understood that this had less to do with Clarke’s lack of trust in her, but rather, it had everything to do with her own demons. </p><p>“Honesty,” Clarke’s voice buckled, “just don’t keep secrets and I’ll, um, trust you until I have a reason not to. Okay?”</p><p>Lexa smiled, her heart released its grip on her throat, and the tension in her body relaxed. She ran up to Clarke, pulling her into an embrace, smelling the sweet lavender and vanilla scents, absorbing as much of the woman she could. </p><p>“Thank you for trusting me,” she whispered into the blonde’s hair, “I love you.”</p><p>“I love you,” Clarke breathed out, nuzzling her nose deeper into Lexa’s neck, sending warmth throughout Lexa’s body, releasing any residual tension.  </p><p>A knock on the door interrupts them. </p><p>Lexa grabs her robe, pulling the string taut against her waist, tying it securely before investigating the source. She motions for Clarke to remain in bed; she wasn’t expecting anyone today, let alone this early in the morning. Do serial killers make morning calls, Lexa wondered to herself? </p><p>Lexa peeked out the window, delicately lifting a shade just enough for her to see through, outside. She released her clenched jaw when she spotted Bellamy’s parked suv in her driveway. </p><p>“What do you want?” The words come out harsher than she intended; she was still coming around to the idea of fixing things with him.</p><p>He grinned, teeth hidden, but enough to squint his eyes, “I want to invest.”</p><p>Lexa blinked, “You show up at my house at six in the morning to talk to me about stocks? Bellamy, cut the shit.”</p><p>“No,” he barked out a laugh, “I want to invest in you, in your company.”</p><p>“You have no idea what it’s about,” Lexa stepped outside instead of inviting him in. She motioned that they sit on the porch swing. The breeze was crisp, promising that autumn was just around the corner, and she wanted to take some time to enjoy it.</p><p>“I have somewhat of an idea,” he shrugged, “Anya told me a little but it doesn’t matter. I want to invest in you, whatever you do.”</p><p>“Why?” she slanted her eyes at him, as if the compression would help her see through his being, into his soul, revealing all of his secrets. None were revealed, at least, not yet.</p><p>“You don’t have the funds from the family fortune anymore and,” he sucked in a breath, running a hand through his greasy hair, “it’s time I start acting like your big brother.”</p><p>“I don’t want to be involved with any decision making,” he continues, “I just want to provide any funds you’ll need.” </p><p>“You can’t throw money on things and think that fixes your actions,” Lexa spits. She stood up to pace the porch, her thighs thrusting, driving each step into the wooden boards below her feet.  He really was a product of their parents. This is exactly what Gustus would do to patch up his trysts and adventures where he disappeared for months on end. She rubbed her neck to release the itchiness of the rash starting to form. </p><p>“Hey,” Bellamy calmly approaches her, “sit down and let’s talk it out, okay?”</p><p>“Oh now you’re the great conversationalist?” Lexa snarls at him, “Where was this last year?”</p><p>“I’m learning. Listen, I know you will need the money and this is the only way I know how to support you,” Bellamy admitted. </p><p>“You realize this is a Gustus move, yea?”</p><p>Bellamy dropped his head, nodding, “I don’t know what else to do. I feel so guilty and I’ve been going to therapy with Dr. Kane.”</p><p>“Uh,” Lexa sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose, “don’t mention him right now.”</p><p>“Wha, why?” </p><p>“Just don’t” She clears her throat, deciding to redirect the conversation, “all I need you to do right now is work on you, then, we can talk about your involvement with my company. Right now, I have plans to get it funded, ethically, and it’s important I do this on my own. You understand?”</p><p>He nods. </p><p>They sit quietly for a few minutes until he breaks the silence, “do you think you’ll forgive me some day?”</p><p>“I want to,” she gives him the most honest answer she can manage. </p><p>“Am I allowed to work through things with Clarke? I miss my best friend,” He sighs, avoiding Lexa’s gaze. </p><p>“That is between you and her,” she lowers her voice, “and I won’t stand in the way of your friendship.”</p><p>He perks up, eyes lighting up, and Lexa half expected to see him break out into a dance.</p><p>“As long as she wants that,” Lexa adds, puffing out her chest, adding to the seriousness of her nature. </p><p>“Thanks, Lex,” he smiles and briefly, Lexa can see the ten year old brother she used to follow around, marveling at all of his worldly knowledge at the time. She matches his smile. </p><p>“I can see that Clarke is here so I’ll leave you to get back to that,” he stands, dusting off his jeans in the process. </p><p>Lexa shut the door behind her, jumping when Clarke peeked around the other side, “Jesus, Clarke.” Lexa grasped her chest, furrowing her eyebrows, wondering how it was possible for her heart to beat so violently, “You scared me.”</p><p>“Sorry,” Clarke kissed Lexa’s nose, “you were taking forever so I wanted to make sure someone didn’t murder you.”</p><p>So Lexa wasn’t the only one thinking about serial killers first thing in the morning; they needed to lay off the true crime.</p>
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